


Exploitation

by rachelladeville



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Begging, Brave Dean, Brave Sam, Cowboy Dean, Dean's bowlegs, Dirty Talk, Disturbing Memories, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Exhibitionism, Fantasizing, Flashbacks, Flirting, Humiliation kink, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of gay sex, M/M, Manipulation, Marathon Sex, Mild Angst, Minor pain play, Orgies, Pining, Power Bottom Dean, Power Dynamics, Prostitute Dean Winchester, References to Canon, Rimming, Sex with multiple partners, Spanking, Switch Dean, Trust Issues, brief mentions of het sex, canon typical issues between Dean and John, canon typical issues between Dean and Sam, chemical dependence, dean in chaps and nothing else, dean indulges other peoples kinks, dean loves his work, dean pining for his twink days, detailed descriptions of dean with his clients, flashback/memories of dubcon, greedy bottom dean, minor dom/sub undertones, minor references to infantilism, mysterious castiel, one instance of blood play, similarities to canon, struggles with alcoholism, sub space, this fic is a mine field of possible triggers, typical John Winchester, unusual sexual elements, versatile bottom dean, whump Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-10-14 19:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 82,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17514200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelladeville/pseuds/rachelladeville
Summary: Dean went to his knees and heard an audible gasp from the audience. Then, a resounding cheer went up as he prostrated himself naked on the floor. His act of submission was more than a display meant to tempt - it was his own body hungrily offering itself. He’d spent all night dreaming of depraved things and then all morning trying to be patient as he waited for the chance to live out those dreams. If it was up to him, he’d number these men off in the order that they appealed to him and then take them… one by one at first… and then two or three at a time until he blissfully blacked out.But, that wasn’t the job. The job was to command a high price and then satisfy the one who paid it. So, with that thought in mind, Dean looked up from his humble place on the floor and locked eyes with his preferred buyer. Holding the man’s attention, Dean used his body position to make promises to him. Before long, the ringing of a bell indicated that the auction had a clear winner.Rising from his lowly position on the floor, Dean turned to glance at the overhead monitor where the winning bid was displayed. “Damn,” he whispered, counting zeros, “that’s gotta be a record.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this story is Destiel all the way. But, getting there is a winding road. So, if you don't like reading our boys with other people before they get together then this one isn't for you. Hugs to everyone, and if you choose to read this smut-fest, I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Many thanks to Destiella for her editing prowess and insightful suggestions. Everything is so much better when she's had a hand in it.

                                                                              

 

Dean woke abruptly, muscle memory bringing his body up from a prone position and onto all fours before his eyes were even all the way open. This was the norm for him and had been for quite some time. Long ago, waking would have found him with one hand under his pillow, the familiar grip of his pistol in his palm.  Back in those days he’d awakened tense for different reasons. These days, when he jolted from sleep it was with a shudder of pleasure, not fear. The initial sensation of pleasure that had roused him was now subsiding and he arched his back to enjoy the tingling aftershocks that followed. As they rolled over him, his eyes drifted closed again and he pushed his knees further apart on his comfortable mattress. Humming contentedly, Dean began to rock on his hands and knees as a sensual feeling built in his groin and slowly crept out over the rest of his body. Deep in his gut was a curl of anticipation and his body was practically humming with it.

Around him the sounds of others waking teased his eyelids into fluttering back open again. Still groggy from sleep, he blinked rapidly and brought a palm to his face to scrub at his eyes. As his vision began to clear, he could see the rigid lines of the bars on his cage and beyond them. This room, the sleeping room, was long and narrow and contained dozens of cages just like his. In his early days here, Dean hadn’t liked being caged. But he’d eventually gotten used to it. Not only did he not mind being caged anymore, it was how he preferred to sleep.

Looking to his left, Dean could see his friend Benny stretching. The man was quite a specimen. His broad shoulders and strong back were enviable and the narrowing at his waist pulled eyes downward toward his strong glutes. Dean licked his lips as his eyes crept over the man’s naked body. Benny was every bit the bear in his cage, thick muscles tightening as he rocked on all fours just like Dean. Tearing his eyes away, Dean cast a glance to his right where Kevin was already wide awake. The kid was Benny’s opposite, a twink if ever there was one. Young. Delicate. Smooth. He wasn’t on all fours though, he was curled up on his side with his hand cupped over his groin.

It was impossible not to smile as he watched little Kevin moan dejectedly. His dainty little dick was locked away in a cage. Dean could remember the feeling all too well. When he’d first arrived here, he’d been locked away like that too… his body not yet acclimated to the supplements that were used to ramp up his sex drive. He had been far too eager to bring himself off. Those days were in the past though. It had been ages since he’d had to sleep with his cock locked up. Some days he missed the feel of unforgiving metal cutting into his first boner of the day. But, for the most part, he preferred waking hard like he was now. He loved feeling the weight of his manhood hanging beneath him, his crown brushing back and forth on the sheet as he rocked on his knees. But, he could be trusted. He rarely even touched himself in the morning – preferring instead to ride the building lust within him through to his first orgasm rather than try to rush it by jerking off.

Coming fully awake now, he sucked in a deep breath and let it go. There was a palpable electricity in the air as virile, horny men woke all around him and waited anxiously for their first sexual adventure of the day. The scent of musk hung in the air and Dean continued to breath in and take it deep as he stretched his limbs. It didn’t take long for the stirring in cages to bring in the handlers. Turning his body, Dean craned his neck around towards the door where they entered, curious who would be bringing his juice.

He was a bit let down to find Meg approaching. She was his least favorite handler and taking juice from her was irritating. He’d still take it, but much preferred Pam. Pam liked him and would often pet his hair and talk dirty to him as he drank from the bottle. Meg, however, was condescending. She looked down her nose at him as if he were some sort of secondary citizen… some cast off from society rather than someone who had freely chosen to give himself over to a better life.

“Lay down,” she commanded as she stepped up to him. “You get nothing until you’re on your back.”

Making a show of his discontentment, Dean flopped over for her. He gave her an icy stare as she pushed her gloved hand through the bars and put a baby bottle to his lips. A drop had already formed at the tip of the nipple and it wetted his lips even as he opened them to suck it in. As always, the liquid was cool and sweet. Even after he swallowed, he could continue to feel it as the substance moved down into his stomach and beyond.

Empty as his belly was, liquid entering it brought a feeling of expansion to his abdomen. Two ounces wasn’t much, and in a few short moments, the bottle was dry and his sucking brought strange clucking noises from it. Meg smirked as she began to pull it away from him, but Dean held to it obstinately by the sheer power of his mouth’s suction. Staring at her coldly, he held firm and enjoyed the displeasure on her face as she worked to wrench it away from him.

When she’d broken the seal of his lips, she broke eye contact too and walked away. Dean didn’t move though. Instead, he laid there on his back with his swollen cock standing at attention. He didn’t touch it. Instead, he focused on the feeling inside him… the juice doing its job. It remained cool as it slithered through his body and he could feel the walls of his colon responding to its magical properties. Unlike other drinks, this one would never be voided. This one was soaking into him and changing the properties of his very cells. Sadly, its effects would last only for the day. He remained in that position for quite a while as the staff worked their way down a long line of cages and offered bottles to each and every man. By the time the jingling of keys reached his ears, Dean was as wet between his legs as any woman had ever been. His puckered hole, always anxious to be fucked, was now creating its own natural lube and as Dean’s body writhed involuntarily on his bed, a wet spot was forming beneath him. For the first few hours on the juice, Dean’s body would eagerly overproduce the stuff and the effects would leave him literally dribbling like a leaky faucet from his backside. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant at all. In fact, he rather enjoyed the feeling. To him, it was a physical manifestation of his desire. So often in the past he’d slipped his hand down into some girls panties and moaned when he found her wet for him. Now, others could do the same with him.

Anxious and excited in equal measure, he turned over onto his stomach and ground his swollen cock into the sheet to relieve the pressure. It wasn’t easy to be patient and wait for someone to come open his cage, not when he was this horny. Purposefully, he ground his dick into the wet spot on his sheet, humping his bed to keep from losing his mind. Still, he never put his hands to himself or tried to cum.

When Gordon stepped up, Dean clenched his jaw. First Meg and now Gordon. Clearly today wasn’t his lucky day. Still, he didn’t cause any trouble. He didn’t want to take any chances on ruining an entire day of fun by provoking a punishment. He’d learned early on that obstinance was fine; he was free to lip off. But, physically starting a fight was grounds for discipline. So, when Gordon’s rough fingers reached between the bars, Dean leaned into the collar and waited patiently for it to be latched around his neck. He obediently went into his cuffs as well, eagerly scrambling out of his cage when the door was swung open and landing on his feet.

“Well, well, well,” grinned Gordon contemptuously, “someone’s ready for a fuckin’.”

“Keep your jealousy in check,” Dean snarked, “just cause you ain’t been laid since God was a boy doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Gordon threw back at him, “I’ll try to keep my jealousy in check while you bend over for some rando and take it up the ass.”

As he was being led to the exit, Dean couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, keep telling yourself how demeaning it is, dickwad. You keep on enjoying the occasional six minute fuck and leave the hours and hours of hardcore stuff to the guys like me who can handle it. I bet you’d stroke out if you ever came as hard as I do.”

Moving out into the hall, Dean absorbed a harsh change as he exited the warm temperature and soft lighting of their sleeping quarters. In contrast, the hall was cold and brightly lit. Between his legs, Dean’s gift of a cock was still heavy and plump despite the changes. As he walked, the wetness that slowly seeped from his hole was spreading around between his cheeks. By the time they’d reached the wash room, his inner thighs were moist with slick too. At least here he was finally treated to a handler he liked.

“G’morning, Dean.”

“Hey Cassie, how you doin’?”

“Well, considering I traded out my favorite donut just to be your waxer, I’d say it’s shaping up to be a decent day.”

“Why do you like me so much,” he teased her, giving a flirty smile. “Is it my perky nipples?”

“It must be the stimulating conversation,” she answered dryly. He ducked his head and maneuvered onto her table. Smiling at him, she snapped an anchoring line through the eyelet on his cuffs and ruffled his hair affectionately before snapping his collar into the lock.

“Lookin’ at you for a few minutes will have me rarin’ to go when I get into the rec room,” he grinned. Letting his eyes skim over her cocoa skin, he imagined what she might look like under her crisp uniform. “You’re the sexiest handler by far.”

“Back atcha,” she grinned flirtatiously. “It’s lucky that handlers aren’t allowed to buy time in there. I’d never take a dime home with me.”

Dean relaxed incrementally as Cassie worked on him, losing himself in the predictable steps as she went about her duties. He didn’t miss the way her eyes roved appreciatively over his naked form while she spread warm wax over the traces of his bush and laid strips of paper onto him. Clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, Dean tried not to flinch as she ripped them away because he always wanted her to be impressed with him. He absolutely loved being her favorite.

When she moved up to stand by his head, he turned his face towards her and watched her dark eyes as she covered the bottom half of his face with a warm, wet towel. Then, he listened as she chatted to him about her life while she plucked at his eyebrows, shaved his scruff, and applied a tingling face mask. When she stepped away for a few minutes to let it set, he closed his eyes and drifted off for a bit. Around him were the soft sounds of conversation as other men underwent salon treatments and, though he was resting, his body was far from calm. His cock was plump where it rested and the entire lower half of his body buzzed in anticipation. Between his cheeks, moisture was building and every time his mind flicked forward to imagine what was coming, he could feel his entrance quiver in excitement. Deep within him a dull ache was building and he knew that the sensation would grow much stronger before relief finally came.

When Cassie returned, she resumed light conversation and because he was fixated on her mouth as she spoke, he didn’t miss the fact that her tongue was now stained bright red. She must’ve enjoyed a red soda or perhaps some fruity candy while she’d been waiting for his mask to cure. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined how she’d look sucking on a lollipop and felt his cock begin to fill.

“Okay Tiger,” she teased, giving his thigh a friendly smack, “it’s time to turn over for me.”

His dick twitched against the side of his leg as he absorbed her filthy words and when he heard the clink of his cuffs and collar being released, he flipped quickly. Lingering on his knees for a moment, Dean took a deep breath and let it go as he processed the slight chill that came with fresh air ghosting between his wet cheeks.

“Boy oh boy,” she crooned as he sank down onto his stomach. “That juice really does the trick doesn’t it?”

“Sure does,” he sighed. Letting his eyes flutter closed again, Dean tried to enjoy the full body buzz he was riding. He’d always loved being waxed, even in the very beginning. No one else really liked it much, griping about the pain whenever the subject came up. It wasn’t that Dean enjoyed the feeling of hair being ripped from his body, but rather that he enjoyed the rest of the experience enough to tolerate the pain that went with it.

He loved the sensuality of being naked in the presence of someone who was fully clothed. Also enjoyable was the feeling of caretaking that came with having someone dote on him. He loved having someone run their fingers over him and look at his nude body with envy and desire. And the sensation of warm wax being slathered on was not to be underrated. He loved the indulgent feel of it.

Even now, with his cock uncomfortably trapped beneath him, Dean sighed contentedly as Cassie spread his butt cheeks apart and bared his hole. He didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smiling down on him. She loved his body and never missed an opportunity to tell him so.

“When your contract is up and you leave here,” she said softly, “come see me and I’ll do this for free.”

“I’m never leaving here,” he whispered, feeling his hole twitch in anticipation as she spread warm wax around it.

Once again doing his best not to flinch, Dean rode out the pain as the last of the unwanted hair was stripped from his body. He basked in her ministrations as she massaged oil into the newly stripped skin. Then, with his ass as smooth and shiny as a porn star, Dean let Cassie lead him over to the adjacent chair. Here, the restraints were optional for Cassie and she left him his freedom as she tipped his head back into the sink to wash and condition his hair. She massaged his scalp with obvious affection and he hummed his appreciation to her throughout.

After, she sat him up and toweled his hair. Using her scissors to trim a few imperfect hairs, she then beckoned him to his feet and over to where the floor dipped down to a drain. He stood there while she used a hand-held shower head to wash him before patting him dry. As always, he grew hard as a rock under her hands, his cock jutting out towards her even as she pushed the fluffy towel between his legs to dry his balls. Dean didn’t miss the way she pressed upward into him, meeting his gaze as she watched him absorb the sensation and smile.

Just then, the harsh sound of Gordon’s voice cut through his euphoria. “Yeah, we get it princess. He’s your fucking favorite. Now, if you don’t mind, get this on him so I can get him to the bidding room. He’s the last one again.”

Dean looked down at Gordon’s outstretched hand and the cock ring it held. Normally, it was the handlers who put on the gear. But Gordon, closet case that he was, pretended to hate the job and almost always deferred to the stylists who worked on Dean.

“Just this?” clarified Cassie as she took it from him.

“Yeah. For today it’s just this.”

Dean shifted his weight to spread his legs apart a bit and Cassie bent down to take him into her palm. She caressed him tenderly as he grew larger in her hand and despite his best efforts, his breath hitched as he felt the cock ring close around his girth.

“Enjoy yourself,” she told him as Gordon tugged him roughly away.

“Always do,” he replied, looking back over his shoulder to wink at her.

The salon was noticeably devoid of naked men when he was led out of it, the only remaining bodies being stylists who were now busily cleaning up in preparation for the next wave of bodies that would soon be brought in. Dean was always one of the last to leave this room – a favorite among most of the stylists. He didn’t think much of it, other than to know that he was an enviable type. Not a twink, but still youthful and fresh-faced; not a bear, but still commanding in presence and formidable in build. He was almost everyone’s type – perfectly proportioned, handsome, confident and proud.

With his hardened cock swaying back and forth as he walked, Dean kept pace with Gordon as he was brought to the gallery. With each step his anticipation revved up and when he looked down there was a small bead of pre-cum forming at his tip. Watching it grow heavy and fall to the floor as he moved, Dean felt his heart rate kick up a notch. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears as he paused and waited for the door to swing open.

As he usually did, Gordon shoved Dean roughly through the door. This part was likely for show because most of the handlers did it to some extent. But when Gordon did it, Dean fucking hated it. He hated Gordon. Period.

But, nothing could detract from this moment. Naked but for his cuffs, collar, and cock ring, Dean walked into the carpeted room. Applause broke out as he did, and his eyes swept over the gallery. In stadium style seating, patrons watched the main floor where Dean had now joined the ranks of those being offered for sale.

Now, all things being equal, Dean just wanted to get some. His body had been hungry for it since he’d awakened and the slow process of getting ready for it had been like foreplay. But, he did have a type. And though he was technically for sale to the highest bidder, he wasn’t completely powerless in who he’d be having sex with. It was perfectly within the rules of the house for him to work the audience and try to appeal to those he most wanted. Hell, that type of behavior was encouraged and Dean was always a crowd pleaser. He was a big earner, driving up the prices and sometimes causing actual fights between clients as he worked them into bidding wars.

So, as he strode out to the center of the gallery, he exaggerated his usual swagger. Doing so made his cock swing heavily as he moved. Then, turning to face those who would bid on him, Dean scanned the eager crowd and tried to pick out a few that appealed to him. There were some familiar faces, regulars whom he’d serviced before, but most were strangers to him. Some even hid behind masks - likely prominent public officials or celebrities who preferred anonymity here. Dean looked right past them, uninterested.

Settling his attention on a man who reminded him a little bit of his friend and fellow whore Benny, Dean closed the distance between himself and his intended target. Taking measured steps, he kept his eyes locked on the man and licked his lips, throwing out a trademark wink when he reached the glass divider that separated them and could get no closer.

The man’s hand went up repeatedly as their gaze held, continuing to bid over and over as the price was raised. Dean paid no attention to the others who were trying to take him and kept himself focused on the one he wanted – hoping the man would prove to be wealthy. Or at least have plenty of credit.

At the first sign of a waiver from his mark, Dean went to his knees. He could hear an audible gasp from the audience and then a resounding cheer went up as he prostrated himself on the floor. His act of submission was more than a display meant to tempt his target. It was also his own body hungrily offering itself. They’d likely never suspect it, but Dean wanted it even more than these men wanted to give it to him.

He’d spent all night dreaming of depraved things and then all morning trying to be patient as he waited for a chance to live out those dreams. If it was up to him, he’d number these men off in the order that they appealed to him and then take them… one by one at first… and then two or three at a time until he finally blacked out - only to wake up still wanting more and more and more.

But, that wasn’t the job. The job was to command a high price and then satisfy the one who paid it. So, with that thought in mind, Dean looked up from his humble place on the floor and locked eyes with his preferred buyer. Holding the man’s attention, Dean used his body position to make promises to the man. Before long, the ringing of a bell indicated that there was a clear winner.

Rising from his lowly position on the floor, Dean turned to glance at the monitor that displayed the winning bid. “Damn,” he whispered, counting zeros, “that’s gotta be a record.”

Feeling a jerk on his cuffs, Dean’s attention was wrenched away. He tossed Gordon a sour look before putting his attention on his feet so as not to stumble. Then, he turned to the audience and gave a quick bow to the applause as he was led away. Exiting to a long hallway, he was suddenly enveloped in quiet and the sound of his heart jackhammering away in his chest was so loud that he wondered if his handler could hear it too.

His body was tightly wound with anticipation and his cheeks were slippery wet, sliding against one another smoothly as he walked at a quick pace. His asshole was practically dribbling, eager to be speared, and his stomach curled with desire. Behind his eyelids, Dean saw flashes of his Benny-look-alike bending him over and fucking into him, reaching around to stroke him, spanking his ass as he thrust harder and harder. With that fantasy swimming in his mind, Dean hoped that was how things would play out. But honestly, he also kind of hoped that the man would surprise him in some way… introduce him to something new he’d never felt before.

The doors in this hall were all numbered and when they came to the one intended for Dean, Gordon unlocked it with a key card and pushed him inside roughly. These rooms were all similar, tastefully decorated, and containing a bed, a table, and a chair. There were eyelets on all the furniture and walls for restraint and a standard toy chest with the basics arranged inside. When purchased in the gallery, which was always the first activity of a sex day, a man was brought to this relatively comfortable room and bound.

The one who had purchased him would be given the key card and a designated amount of time to play, uninterrupted. There were rules posted on the wall and the winning bidder would have already agreed to abide by them upon threat of expulsion for breaking any. Dean was relatively comfortable in this room, and after Gordon had secured him to the wall by his cuffs, he finally left. Alone now, Dean had only to wait. However, his patience was wearing thin and he wound up pressing his cock into the wall to relieve the pressure building there.

Deep inside him, a dull ache that had been present since waking was growing more prominent by the minute. It was getting harder to ignore. Flexing against his restraints, Dean tried to be patient. He knew from experience that prostate stimulation would relieve his ache. More than anything, Dean wanted a cock in him and the steady leak of slick from his eager hole served as the physical proof of it. When he finally heard the telltale click of the keycard reader, Dean nearly sobbed in relief.

The door opened and Dean’s body tensed. He arched his back and pushed his ass backwards toward the man who would soon fuck him. It was a wordless invitation to defile him. Turning to look over his shoulder, he was thrilled to see the man’s eyes sliding over him appreciatively. Dean rocked back in his restraints and spread his legs farther apart, eager to get started.  

“Oh yeah,” sighed the man, pulling the door closed behind him, “this was money well spent.”

Dean grinned and leaned forward again, pressing his dick against the wall as he waited for the man to come and take what was his. When he didn’t move, Dean looked back again and dared to speak. “I want your cock so fucking bad.”

“I know you do,” reassured the man in a deep voice, “but you’re gonna have to prove it by being a good boy for me.”

Oh great. One of these. Dean hadn’t pegged this guy as one who’d make him wait. Or beg. But he’d been wrong before and he’d be wrong again. Waiting and begging might not be his favorite type of game, but he’d play. He always did whatever was necessary to satisfy his customer. It was an investment, he figured, in future bidding wars. “I’ll be good,” he promised, “cause I want you so bad.”

Dean could feel the man’s presence as he came up behind. He pressed his ass back in the hopes that he’d be able to at least feel the outline of the man’s dick against his crack. Then he’d at least know how big the guy was. Knowing what he had to look forward to might make it easier to get through the inevitable waiting.

“No, no, no,” tisked the man, stepping back to avoid contact. “You’re not gonna get me that easy. A whore like you has to earn it.”

Hearing himself called a whore made Dean’s dick jump a bit. He’d never admit to having a kink for humiliation, but for some reason he’d always been turned on by being called dirty names. Especially ‘cockslut’. Maybe because that one was true of him. Even before he’d come to this place, his mouth had watered at the thought of sucking dick. Hiding his proclivities from his father hadn’t ever been easy. But, once Dean had actually started doing dudes, it was as if a flood gate had been opened. From then on, life with John Winchester had gotten more and more intolerable by the day. He’d simply craved more action than he’d been able to secretly procure.

Granted, the man didn’t seem to mind Dean’s easy hookups in diners and dive bars, as long as his conquests were female. In fact, his father had often seemed proud of his son’s prowess. But, keeping it to just the ladies had grown tiresome after a while – especially with the strong appeal of trying something new when the opportunity presented itself. He’d be lying if he tried to pretend that his father hadn’t been a big part of his decision to commit himself to this place.

The hunting life with John Winchester had been rewarding in many ways. But, much like his brother, Dean had eventually decided that life with their father was too confining. Both brothers were now living life on their own terms, far away from their father. Sammy’s life as a lawyer might be a bit more noble than Dean’s, but he’s not be sorry for whoring himself out. He’d chosen this life for a reason. And that reason hung between his legs now, impatient as it waited for this paying customer to give him what he wanted. Needed.

His cock nearly leapt for joy when Dean finally felt a hand come to rest on his flank.

“Gonna let you out,” said the man behind him, “but only if you be good for me.”

“I’ll be good,” he promised again.

“You want my cock don’tcha little boy?”

Dean almost laughed at that. It’s been a while since anyone talked to him like a twink. He’d come here young enough to still embody that particular fantasy, but he’d long since outgrown it.

“Oh yeah,” he moaned, hands falling to his sides as the man released him from restraints.

“Get on your knees.”

“Yes sir,” he answered as he dropped to the floor.

The man sat down on the bed next to him and said, “Take off my shoes and socks, boy.”

Oh fuck. If there’s a kink Dean doesn’t have, it’s feet.

“Yeah, boy, you know what I want,” praised the man as his ugly feet were bared to the room.

Remembering the way he’d laid himself out on the floor in the gallery, Dean tried to find some way to enjoy what he was doing. Working on someone’s feet was subservient, after all, and Dean liked to be subservient. Hoping for the best, Dean leaned in and licked a stripe up the top of the man’s foot  to his ankle. Hoping that a little tongue tease would be all that was needed, he then pressed upwards and tried to push his mouth into the man’s lap.

“Please,” he whimpered as he made a play for it, “please let me suck it.”

“You gotta earn that,” answered the man gruffly, grabbing Dean by the scruff of his neck and forcing him back down.

At least it was a little scintillating to be shoved down. Dean set to work, tongue tracing the lines of the man’s feet and sucking toes one at a time. When he felt like he’d earned it, he looked up at the man in charge of his pleasure and asked, “Can I finger myself? Have I earned that much?”

“Sure you can,” grinned the man, “put on a show for me while you work.”

The ache inside him was quelled the moment his rim was breached. Quivering with desire, Dean pushed his two middle fingers deep inside and began searching for the good spot. Even as he did so, he was opening up to take the man’s toes back into his mouth. Closing his eyes and trying to be grateful for something to suck on, Dean found the magic place up inside of himself and stroked it to life. A shiver snaked up his spine as the ache of want in him was chased away and he groaned salaciously. Contentedly serving his master now, Dean continued to finger himself rhythmically and tried to make it look as sexy as possible.

It wasn’t easy to find new and unique ways to pleasure a man’s feet, but Dean did his level best. Eventually he felt a heavy hand come to rest on the crown of his head and his heart skipped a beat with the possibility that he was about to change activities. Luckily, he was soon being pulled up by his hair and shoved down on a fat cock. This, he thought, is more like it.

With his jaw locked open wide over a huge dick, Dean hummed happily. When the hand on his head pushed him down hard and held him there, he was further titillated. Impaled on a massive cock, he gagged in the best way and felt tears spring to his eyes. Loving the rough treatment, Dean pushed a third finger into his ass. It was so damned juicy back there that he could hear the squelching of his fingering even over the heavy breaths of the man he was sucking off.

“Got that ass ready for me?” growled the man who bought him.

“Y-yghh,” was all he could grit out around the shaft choking him. But, his cock was suddenly throbbing as his brain processed the idea that he might finally be fucked. Suddenly pulled up by the hair, Dean’s mouth gaped open and he panted heavily as he met the man’s heavy stare. “Split me open,” he challenged, “Make me scream.”

The man slapped his face and rose to his feet while Dean recovered. Then, there were fingers laced into his hair again and an iron grip holding him in place as the man slapped his cheek and open mouth with a heavy, wet cock.

“Oh yeah,” he pleaded, fingers still buried in his ass and working rhythmically to widen his entrance. Being mistreated on his knees like this was taking him back to his days before… back when he’d traveled with his father and would wander into the occasional truck stop bathroom. Naked under his jeans and halfway unzipped, his pants would hang low and expose a sliver of his eager ass. An obvious invitation to all comers.

He’d hoped and prayed back then, as he’d dropped to his knees on a dirty floor, that his father wouldn’t come in and see him down there, gagging himself to tears on the day old cock of some beer gutted trucker. But then again, if the worst were to happen, at least he’d be able to stop pretending to be straight for his old man.

As his mind snapped back and forth between the dick he was currently sucking and the ones of his early days, Dean could feel his body starting to build towards an orgasm. It would be his first of the day, and he knew he’d fucking earned it. He was already getting close when he was roughly grasped and spun around. Grunting as his face was shoved down to the floor, Dean braced himself on his knees and elbows. With his asshole quivering and shiny wet, Dean could only cry out to be filled.

“C’mon man,” he begged, spreading his knees further apart, “fuckin’ tear me up!”

But, instead of being penetrated, he got slapped. Not once or twice but repeatedly. It stung badly, but didn’t dull his arousal. In fact, he rather liked it. It was doubly humiliating to bare his ass and beg and still be denied what he wanted. Needed.

His body rocked under the heavy swats and his cheeks reverberated with each new blow. His ass was on fire already and it clenched in fear of more - even as Dean wondered if perhaps more wasn’t exactly what he wanted. “I’m gonna tear up that pussy, you little slut,” promised the man from above.

“Do it,” he cried, needing a dick in him like he needed air.

“Say my name, whore.”

Everything went white. Panic set in. Dean opened his mouth and tried to pull his mind from the hazy state he’d fallen into as he’d been punished and humiliated. He had no idea what name to call out and he needed to know that name if he wanted to be fucked.

From behind him, Dean could hear the jangle of a belt buckle and the sound of a leather strap clearing belt loops. “Call me daddy if you don’t know my name, little bitch.”

“Daddy,” he called out, hating the sound of it. “You’re my daddy. Fuck me, Daddy.”

“Who’s my boy?”

“I’m your boy,” he called desperately, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. Looking up, he saw the man pulling his belt strap back to dish out a beating with it.  He arched his back and spread his knees apart, opening himself as far as he was able. “Get my hole,” he rasped out, simultaneously fearful and welcoming of the coming pain. Clenching his body in preparation, he took a deep breath. The leather strap missed his entrance when it fell the first time, snapping loudly on his pinkened ass and leaving a stinging sensation that stretched over the full expanse of his backside. The next lash landed unbelievably close to his hole and Dean screamed out in the voice of a girl as he absorbed it. With his face pressed to the floor, Dean called out again, “I need you Daddy, fuck me! Fuck your bad little boy!”

And with that, Dean finally got what he wanted. Pushing back with all his strength, Dean screamed out in pleasure as he felt the blunt head of a cock pressing against his hole and bursting past the rim. He didn’t crumple forward as he was penetrated either. He continued pushing back, rocking from side to side a bit as he was violated, eagerly swallowing up every fucking inch that the man pushed in. He felt the skin around his hole pull tight and begin to stretch. He felt the wide girth between his legs and up into his abdomen, almost as if the shaft was long enough to push up behind Dean’s belly button and bow his stomach.

The relief tied to the action of being mounted was so intense that he continued screaming in pleasure until his partner was fully seated. The man obviously liked hearing him carry on, answering his vocalizations with a husky, “That’s right little boy, I’ll give ya what you need.”

Dean was surprised by the sound of his own voice, coming out high pitched and boyish. Before there was any time to adjust to the sheer size of this man’s cock, it was pulling back out of him. “Tight like a pussy should be,” mumbled the man as he clamped his hands down on Dean’s hips. “You wanted to be split open,” he reminded Dean, “so, you can scream all you like, but I ain’t holdin’ back for you.”

I fucking hope not, thought Dean. He bit his lip to make sure the thought didn’t slip out of his mouth and then he forgot about the pain in his knees and leaned into the first thrust. Grunting with the force of it, Dean reached under his belly and gripped his own cock as the man fucked forward into him. The pullback was even better the second time and Dean could feel his entrance clenching around the man’s shaft, clinging to it and trying to keep it inside him. He groaned in ecstasy when the man’s crown caught on his rim and rested there for a moment. When he plunged back inside, it happened fast. From that moment on, it was all Dean could do to keep his knees under him.

Feeling young now that he’d adopted that persona, he carried on like a teenager and wailed for his ‘daddy’. He continued screaming like a virgin as he was roughly taken, and doing so made Dean’s cock pulse pre-cum steadily onto the floor between his knees. The man plowed into him from behind, holding his hips in a vice grip as he set a brutal pace. Dean, still gripping his own cock tightly with one hand, bore the weight of the man behind him with one strong arm and eagerly rocked along as he was fucked. Loving what he was getting, but still mindful of satisfying his customer, he made sure that his begging was well suited to the man. Hating himself a little for the ease with which he did it, Dean continued to call the man his daddy. In a squeaking high voice, he pleaded that the cock was too big… that it hurt… that his little boy pussy was too small. He was stroking the man’s ego and they both seemed to know it, but neither cared as Dean’s sloppy wet hole eagerly took all it was given.

He was only a heartbeat away from a climax when the man suddenly pulled his cock all the way out and painted Dean’s backside with his cum. It was always hot to have someone shoot it on him like that – to feel it splatter on his overheated skin and dribble sloppily around his hole. He smiled as it happened too, picturing what he must look like. He even twisted around to try and catch a glimpse, then locked eyes with the man as he released his own swollen dick in favor of dragging a finger through the man’s spend, spreading it around a little and eventually bringing his finger to his tongue for a small taste. But, despite his award winning act, he was left disappointed. He hadn’t even come.

His client flopped backwards onto the bed and sighed heavily. “Clean Daddy up,” he ordered.

Pulling himself up from the floor, Dean crawled up onto the bed. At least he was off his sore knees. He did as he was asked and began licking his own slick off the man’s wilting cock. Thankfully, a beeping sound soon signaled the end of their time together. After a few seconds of warning beeps, the door clunked open and Dean was pulled roughly out into the hall.

The gentleman who had purchased him was left to clean up and get dressed in his own time. Dean, however, was led down the hall and back towards the salon. His backside was dripping with cooling cum and his own slick. His cock was still hard in its plastic ring and it ached for a release. His stomach was tight too, still hopeful for an orgasm that hadn’t come to fruition.

As the handler walked him through the door of the salon, Dean’s eyes shot to Cassie’s station. His hopes of being cared for by her were dashed when he saw another man on her table. He was led over to the empty table of a woman named Lydia. She wasn’t as nurturing or flirty as Cassie, but she was attractive enough that he liked having her hands on him. He laid there and tried to relax as she cleaned him up. She gave him a standard mid-day massage which included special focus on his butt cheeks to help his gaping hole regain its shape. He was also given an artful teasing to make sure that he was eager enough to return to his work.

With that short break behind him, Dean was moved once more. This time, rather than the gallery, Dean was brought to the rec room. This was always where the remainder of a sex day took place. Unlike the gallery where everyone was auctioned off, the rec room was accessed by paying a standard fee per hour. Once they’d entered the rec room, customers were allowed to play with anyone in the room for the duration of their time there. Dean liked the rec room.

Upon entering, his handler removed the cuffs and left him in only his collar. He was now free to roam about. The rec room was actually a collection of connected rooms with varying themes. Some areas were more private while others were more public. Some rooms were laden with heavy equipment for dom/sub play and others were full of comfortable furniture and soft fabrics. Other rooms were themed to look like a pool hall, library, or classroom. Whatever environment a customer wandered into, there were places to fuck and be fucked, toys in abundance, and video cameras rolling.

If one were so inclined, they could even purchase a tape of their encounter in the gift shop on the way out. Dean had enjoyed every room in this maze at least once, but he had his favorite places. Heading for one of them now, he kept an eye out for someone to score with.

One of the things that Dean really liked about the rec room was that there were both men and women using it. Today, however, he was in the mood for a heavy handed man so that’s what he hoped to find as he wove his way through to the room in the back that looked like a pool hall. When he arrived, he went straight to the pool table. He would’ve liked to have ordered a drink, but he tried not to think about that particular desire. It’s not like the bartender would have served him anyway. Drinks were only for customers. Besides, no one was allowed to eat or drink on sex days. Anything imbibed might interfere with the drugs they were given or the ‘juice’ that they’d been bottle fed. Not to mention possibly ruining the freshly douched entrances that were offered here.

Since he wasn’t able to partake, it was better to just keep his mind completely off of alcohol. Racking up a game, Dean kept himself focused on pool as he watched and waited for someone to approach.

He didn’t have to wait long. A group of boisterous men entered together, sidled up to the bar and did a shot, and then turned their eyes to Dean’s naked form. He gave them a wink and then bent down under the pretense of lining up a shot. But really, he was just showing them the goods.

His stomach was knotted up tight in anticipation and his balls were aching with the need to cum. His asshole was still leaking slick and when he turned it towards the men gathered at the bar, his puckered entrance was quivering impatiently. Ever hopeful, his dick seemed to agree that a gangbang was just what he needed right now.

“Fellas,” he greeted when they ambled over, “you UP for a game?”

“Oh we’re up for it,” grinned the obvious leader. “I’m Vic and this is Max,” he said, gesturing towards the man next to him.

“And I’m Gavin,” added the third man, who stepped up to shake Dean’s hand as if they were actually meeting in a regular bar.

“Gavin’s gettin’ his cherry popped,” laughed Vic.

“Yeah,” added Gavin, “I just turned eighteen.”

“Well, it’s good to meet ya,” grinned Dean, happy to play along.

“You wanna show the kid how to line up a shot?” asked Vic.

“Sure thing,” he answered with a wink. Turning to face the young boy, Dean signaled him to come forward and then laughed as he told the kid that he just made him come with one finger. It was an old joke, but everyone laughed as though it was the first time they’d heard it.

Taking the pool cue in hand, young Gavin stepped up to the table as if to take a shot at the nearest ball. Dean bent down with him, wrapping an arm around the boy’s waist to reposition his hip. Then, breathing into the boy’s ear as he said it, Dean told him to form an imaginary line between the ball and the pocket he wanted to put it into. “Got your line?” he asked in a husky voice.

“Yep.”

“Okay then, get behind it.”

Dean moved with the kid as he shifted to the left and took aim. For a second, it seemed like the boy might actually get off a shot. But, no. Instead, one of their group stepped up to goose him while distracted. The boy practically jumped out of his skin at the unexpected contact.

“Take it easy,” whispered Dean as he leaned in to help the kid recover. “and if it’s easy, take it.”

With that, the young man turned his head and said, “I wanna take you.”

“Well,” he grinned, “I’m easy.”

The pool cue clattered to the floor forgotten as the boy turned to Dean and pushed him forward over the table. Dean smiled warmly, knowing he wasn’t going to get off from this, but oddly happy to be the boy’s first. He let those shaky hands latch onto his hips and when he felt denim behind him, he pushed his bare ass back into it. Around them, the older men cheered for their young friend as Dean rocked from side to side, letting his ass tease the boy with light contact through his jeans.

It didn’t take long for the young man to find his courage. The dusty cowboy music playing didn’t entirely cover the sound of his zipper coming down, or the muffled noise of his jeans as they flopped down to his ankles.

“Oh fuck,” the kid whimpered as his little cock pushed between Dean’s cheeks, “you’re so wet.”

“For you,” Dean goaded, “I’m wet for you. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Um…”

“C’mon, man,” Dean pressed, still bent over the pool table, “you know what you want. Take it. It’s yours.”

From behind them, Dean could hear Vic and Max issuing challenges to the boy to get him going. Dean waited patiently, looking over his shoulder and flashing his most adorable smile whenever their eyes met.

He was trying not to get too anxious, but even bending over like this was revving up his motor. And with others watching, his exhibition kink was flaring. “Gavin,” he said firmly, pulling the boy’s eyes back to his face. Then, when he knew he had the kid’s attention, he pushed two fingers into his mouth and sucked them for a second. Gavin looked like he wanted to suck them too. Slowly Dean pulled the fingers from his mouth and moved his hand towards his own ass. With exaggerated sensuality, he drug those fingers down his own crack, a little surprised at how wet he really was.

Pushing through his own slick and down over his puckered hole, he teased at his entrance with wet, shiny fingers and soon felt the boy’s erection bump against him. “That’s right, sweetheart,” he crooned, “It’s for you. C’mon.”

The young man’s prick was small. Childlike. It didn’t stretch him at all, slipping in as easily as a finger would have. The kid moaned aloud as he sank inside, his hands coming to rest gently on Dean’s hips. Dean, wanting to make it nice for the kid, laid his own hands over top of the boys and began to move with him. Slowly and gently, he began a rolling of his hips that soon had the kid breathing heavily and hunching forward over Dean’s back.

Practically panting into his ear, the boy groaned as they rolled together. Soon he began to actually pump. Dean matched his pace and before he’d even had a chance to enjoy their little slow-motion movie-style fuck, the boy creamed inside him. With his body rigid and his mouth locked open in obvious ecstasy, young Gavin lost his virginity to Dean Winchester. In a brothel.

Their sweet and gentle moment was over too soon, the older men shoving forward to congratulate Gavin and then pushing him aside with claims that they’d “show him how it’s really done.” It was almost a little sad. For a minute to two.

Before long, though, Dean was lost in the throes of passion as he was roughly fucked against the side of the pool table by both men in turn. Dean enjoyed it immensely, especially since his rock-hard cock was thumping against the pool table on every thrust. He came quickly and shamelessly, spurting opaque jizz onto the wooden side panel as he was fucked by Vic.

Dean liked the way the men fucked. They both had a certain snap to their hips that tugged at his rim with each thrust. With the glow of his first orgasm still enveloping him, Dean was all too eager to agree when Max suggested they double up. He watched Vic crawl up onto the green velvet table top and lay himself out flat with his legs bent at the knee and his feet dangling over the edge.

Dean hoisted himself up over the man and made a show of situating himself over that big black cock. Then, he slid down nice and easy on him and leaned forward. With his dick trapped between his own stomach and Vic’s, Dean waited patiently for Max to climb up behind him. Then, he arched his back so that Max’s fingers could push up inside him and stretch him over the second cock as it pressed its way in.

Practically vibrating with lust, Dean waited for Max to get fully seated before sitting halfway up and bracing himself on his knees. Then, when Max began to thrust, Dean used his weight to push down on both of them. Spread wide over two big dicks, Dean could’ve wept for how good it felt. Rocking back onto them and feeling himself stretched to his limits, it was impossible to keep silent. He panted and cursed as he impaled himself over and over while his own cock jutted straight out in front of him. Vic’s eyes were locked on it as it bobbed and swayed with Dean’s humping motions and when he took hold of it, Dean lurched under the lightning strike of pleasure that snapped through it. Across from them, Gavin was watching with his mouth hanging open in shock.

Glancing down at Vic, Dean recognized the glassy-eyed look on his face. The man was enjoying this tremendously, but having just come, he’d not be reaching his end any time soon. He was just along for the ride, barely moving. He was groaning aloud each time Max pushed in, their dicks rubbing together sensually while buried inside of Dean.

Max was far more skilled than Vic, and that was saying something. The man was incredible, thrusting with his entire body rather than just his hips. Dean couldn’t believe his luck and he leaned back onto the man, loving it when strong arms wrapped around to clasp his shoulders. Guided by those hands, Dean grinned madly as he was pulled back heavily onto the full girth of two hard cocks. Each dick grew even wider at its base, and with Max pulling him down progressively harder, his greedy hole stretched father with each repetition.

Their pace was increasing and a searing heat built between their bodies as they moved together, towering over Vic who was now gripping Dean's cock as though it were a lifeline. Eventually the sound of skin slapping on skin grew louder than the background music. Dean’s body gave and gave, his hole stretching wider, always wet as his body continually pulsed its own lube from deep inside. The squick of cocks pushing into him and pulling back out was salacious to his ears as he bounced on them and all three men spouted a litany of curse words as they closed in on a second climax together. Onlookers began to gather alongside Gavin to watch and Dean loved how sexy he felt as he put on a show for them.

When he came again, he was looking down at his cock and able to watch as he shot a load from his engorged tip. It spattered across Vic’s chest and as it happened, he felt the man beneath him go rigid. His eyes clenched shut as he came hard into Dean. Then, as Vic was coming down, Max grew erratic behind him. The man dropped his forehead to Dean's shoulder as he shot his second load up into Dean’s eager hole.

The three of them groaned loudly in satisfaction as they peeled themselves apart. Dean scuttled over the edge of the table and balanced himself on weak knees. Between his legs he felt hollow, his hole clenching wildly but far too stretched to hold in the spend of three men. Along with his own juices, it spilled out onto the floor in a splattering mess that he almost didn’t want to look at.

As he was pulled away by a handler, Dean received accolades from the men he’d just banged and a rousing round of applause from the onlookers who’d witnessed his debauchery. Back in the salon once more, he was lucky enough to find himself being ushered to Cassie’s area this time. His over stimulated dick fell slack as soon as his cock ring was removed and he sighed with relief.

“How was it?” she asked as she led him over to the drain in the floor.

“Fan-freaking-tastic,” he told her with eyes closed.

“Good,” she smiled warmly, turning on her little hand-held shower head. Slowly and gently, she washed him with a soft cloth and warm water. He stood with his legs apart so she could douche him and then stayed still to be cleaned fully before being dried off and ushered back over to her table. The recipient of her incredible massage, he found himself fading in and out of a contented sleep while she worked his muscles into relaxation for him. It didn’t take long for him to start waking up again, though. Not once she started in on the butt massage.

Beneath him on her table his dick began to stir. He adjusted himself to make room for his package and even as he was doing that, his puckered entrance was growing moist again. “Mmm” he hummed.

“Turn over for me?”

“Not a chance,” he grinned, “keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Okay,” she said warmly, “You get five more minutes.”

“You’ve got magic hands.”

“Just wait til you turn over,” she teased. And with that said, Dean decided he didn’t want five more minutes of ass massage. He rolled over and grinned at her, his flaccid cock laying there in a heap as it waited for her attention.

She kept him waiting for a few minutes, gentle hands working his pecs and biceps and even his thigh muscles before bringing her fingers to his groin. She teased his dick to life skillfully and then began to stroke his shaft when it lengthened in her hands. Before long, Dean was feeling the familiar tug of the cock ring being guided back into place. For good measure, she stroked him a few more times once it was on him and looked into his eyes as his arousal became fresh and new again.

When he was pulled away from her in cuffs again, Dean sighed wistfully. He’d be returned to the rec room now and had high hopes of his next encounter being with a woman. Hopefully, one with gentle hands and a soft voice. He was now in a mood to pleasure someone with soft curves and voluptuous breasts. Someone who would whisper things in his ear rather than bark curse words at him as they came.

He did get his wish of a female client, though she was far less attractive than he’d been hoping for. At least she had a nice rack. She pushed his head down between her legs under a table in the mock library and to please her, he ate her out for far longer than he really cared to. When she was primed and ready, begging him incessantly, he put her up on the table to fuck her. His eyes had lingered on her bouncing breasts as he sank in and fucked her, his dick pushing into tight, wet heat and eliciting a contented moan. He brought her to a climax before finally allowing himself to orgasm and then he banged another lady after that. It felt so incredibly good to push his dick up into someone, but by this point his asshole had grown envious. It twitched as he thrust to remind him that it was empty and needed filling. As if that weren’t enough, he was still leaking slick the entire time he carried on because there was no stopping that shit once a man had drank the juice. In a perfect world, he’d have been pegged from behind while fucking that second woman. But sadly, his attention hadn’t been split between two partners that time and he had to climax from stimulation to his cock alone.

After that, a trip to the salon had him feeling fresh and clean again. He ventured through the rooms slowly, making himself available. All around him others were lost in various stages of carnal acts and it was quite sensual to walk amidst the clusters of people fucking. Back in the room with the pool table, he let out a whistle to get everyone's attention and then bent over against the bar to make his intentions known. Feeling like he could never be fucked enough to be fully satisfied, Dean took on a chain of men, one right after the other. They lined up for him, each taking their turns while he jerked himself to orgasm again and again. Enjoying the change in dynamic from one man to the next, Dean kept his back arched and his legs spread wide, taking all comers and keeping at it until his knees grew too weak to hold him up anymore.

Gripping the bar rail with one hand, he used the strength of one arm to hold himself upright as he sagged to his knees between fucks. Still wanting more, he kept one hand on his cock and called for two at a time. Taking two cocks at once did the trick - elevating him to a new level of turned on and making it possible to reach his peak a few more times. As he grew weary, though, the climaxes were progressively less powerful and almost nothing was spurting from his tip anymore. Thankfully, his fucked out hole stayed slick as he was tag teamed. Loving what he was getting and unwilling to stop, he grew weaker and weaker until eventually the handlers interceded. He blacked out as they pulled him away and when he woke, he was being positioned on a table in the salon.

Rejuvenation took a long time, fucked out as he was, but the massage he was given was wonderful and he faded blissfully in and out of sleep a few times as his body recovered. Dean's last round of the day was with a regular who came to fuck him often. The guy was overweight with wild eyes and wilder hair. His name was Ronald Reznick and Dean remembered it because the guy always gave both his first and last name like a dork.

Despite being relatively unattractive, Dean liked the guy a lot. He professed to love having his mouth between Dean’s cheeks and was one of the few customers that could be counted on for a rim job. Dean knew the man had a crush on him and he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he frequently went out of his way to make Ronny feel like Dean had a bit of a thing for him as well.

Knowing what the guy liked, Dean led him by the hand to a room decorated like a regular bedroom. He kept his eyes locked on the heavy man as he worked to undress him and then pulled him under the covers.  This was where the man seemed most comfortable and true to form, he was soon guiding Dean onto his stomach. Dean stretched out luxuriously as Ron bent down to lick him out and the man kept at it until Dean was quivering with delight. Turning him over again, Ron grinned when their eyes met and sank down to blow him – the only time all day that anyone had actually wanted to blow him rather than be blown.

Grateful beyond measure for the extended foreplay, which Ron was likely paying a small fortune to provide him, Dean held eye contact as he climbed on top, seated himself on Ronny’s cock, flashed a winning smile and began to ride it. With his eyes wide, Ronny laid there and soaked it up, his hands clutching Dean’s strong thighs as he artfully bounced there, gradually increasing the pace until he’d brought the man to climax. When it was over, Dean found himself pulled into an embrace, Ron hugging him tightly under the covers and whispering that he wished he could take him home for keeps.  

By this time it was late, coming up on four in the morning. The bar-rush was at its end and the rec room was nearly empty. So, with his mind on one last orgasm, Dean rolled them over and wrapped his legs around the big burly man who was obviously infatuated with him. With his legs spread wide, Dean’s wet hole invited him in and Ronny sank inside, slow fucking Dean missionary style.

Pulling the man’s face down, Dean arched his back and practically shoved his nipple into the guy’s mouth, encouraging him to continue sucking there with a litany of debauched sounds and whispered words. He slung his leg up over Ronny’s shoulder and the man responded by repositioning his own legs to fuck in deeper. Dean gasped aloud and fisted his cock, never breaking eye contact as he whispered over and over how badly he wanted to come again on Ronny’s cock.

Eventually he did blow again - on his back with a cock buried deep and his arm muscles burning with the effort of jacking himself off. Ronald watched him orgasm as if he were a gift from the gods and when Dean started to come back down from it, he made sure to give the man a deep kiss filled with emotion. He always tried to give the customers something to come back for, even the ones he didn’t much care for. But honestly, he did have a bit of thing for Ron. The guy was funny and sweet and sincere, his personality going a long way towards compensating for his unfortunate looks.

Dean smiled indulgently as he was cleaned up one last time. Laying down on a table in the salon, he settled in to enjoy his final massage of the day. He was quite satisfied and drifting on a warm cloud when the nurse pushed her computer cart up next to him.  

“Hey Anna.”

“Hi Dean, how was your day?”

“Awesome,” he grinned, remembering the high points as she checked him over and entered notes into the system. As he watched her prepare his injection, she asked him which encounter of the day had been his favorite. Despite knowing that she was just making polite conversation, Dean searched his mind for the most honest answer he could give. As she located his vein and plunged in the needle, he smiled warmly and answered, “The virgin. The one with the tiny dick.”

He watched an answering smile play over her lips as she withdrew the needle. Then she leaned in over him to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Never lose that sweetness, Dean, it’s why we all love you so much.”

Already he could feel the effects of his injection. A moment ago he’d been completely satisfied… one hundred percent fucked out and done. But, just moments after the prick of a needle, he could already feel a heady eroticism building inside him.

Still physically exhausted, he knew he’d sleep and sleep well. But thanks to the shot, he’d be plagued with delightfully dirty dreams all night long.

When prompted, he rose from the table and followed along in his cuffs as he was led to the sleeping quarters. Divine exhaustion sinking into his bones, Dean was asleep before the door to his cage had even been locked.  His dreams mounted quickly, lascivious images flashing through his mind and indecent acts bombarding his subconscious. Upon waking, as expected, he was already half out of his mind with lust, rocking on all fours again and desperate to be fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiella is the best. Not only did she edit this behemoth of a chapter, she did it in record time, and she did it while practically stepping/tripping over me. Honestly, this fic is minefield of possible triggers and I know she's not a fan of some of the kinks that are presented in this chapter. Still, she persevered and for that, I owe her a porn sundae LOL
> 
> BTW, the tags have been updated, might wanna check if you have any triggers

                                                                    

 

Attempting to assuage the burning fire of lust inside without actually putting hands to himself, Dean dropped low to his mattress. Spreading his knees apart, he lowered his cock far enough that its crown skimmed gently over the sheet as he rocked on all fours. He did this almost every morning and so did Benny in the cage beside him. Looking over now, he saw that the man’s eyes were locked on him intently. “Hey Ben,” he grinned, “Gonna do some damage today?”

“Oh hell yeah, brotha. Yesterday they had me in bondage gear. I got stuck dishin’ out punishments to lonely housewives.”

“Not enough action for ya?”

“Naw, man. I’m gonna pound some serious ass today. I’m pent up.”

“Well, if ya see me in the library drillin’ some chick on the table… get up behind me.”

“You know it, brother.”

Just as they were sharing a conspiratorial smile, the doors opened and it was juice time. A new girl named Becky was the one to step up with his bottle. She seemed over-eager and jittery, but Dean was just glad it wasn’t Meg again. He rocked forward and back one more time before laying down and accepting the bottle. Like most of the rest, she didn’t release it into his hands. Rather, she held it for him.

“Do you like to be touched?” she asked. “Some of the girls were telling me that I’m allowed to touch if you want me to.”

“You can touch me,” he said, speaking around the bottle’s nipple. He kept his eyes locked on her as he began to drink down the thick liquid. His stomach, empty from days of not eating, gurgled as it began to fill.

Though she’d seemed eager to put her hand between the bars, Becky wound up looking unsure what to do with that hand once it was actually inside the cage. Hoping she’d stay sweet and not turn into power-tripper like Meg, Dean took her hand in his and pulled it to his cheek. Guiding her gently, he showed her how he liked his cheek stroked. Then, he pulled his hand away and dropped it to the mattress while he continued sucking.

In the few moments they sat together, she grew bold quickly. Her hand slid from his cheek to his neck and then to his shoulder where she traced down around the curve of his bicep. Her fingers soon tickled over towards his nipple and with his juice now gone, Dean pulled his mouth away from the bottle and said to her, “I know what you want.”

She looked like a deer in headlights as she retracted both arms from his cage. “W-What do I want?”

“You want to be fucked. You want to be had. It’s all over you.”

“I-I don’t know what you –

Cutting her off, he added, “M’just sayin’, sweetheart, be careful. The handlers here get no action. If I were you, I’d re-think the career path.”

“Are you saying that I should become a -

“Yeah, sweetheart, that’s exactly what I’m sayin’.”

“I’m not a whore,” she told him firmly, swiftly backing away from his cage.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “you keep tellin’ yourself that.”

Her face went white as she turned away from him and he couldn’t help but chuckle. From his left, he heard Benny joining him in easy laughter.

“C’mon Winchester,” he chortled, “give the new girl a few days to find her sea legs before you start in with that shit.”

“That girl? No way. That one’s gonna be in a cage before the week is out. I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“Care to put some money where your mouth is?”

Still on his back, Dean rocked his hips from side to side and watched his swollen cock tipping back and forth like a metronome. “I’d put a cool fifty on it,” he answered slyly.

“Fifty that she’s under contract by this time next week?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll take that bet,” grinned the big ox from his cage.

While they were speaking, Pam stepped up. She was giving them a stern look and twirling her key-card lanyard on her pointer finger. “Dean Winchester,” she barked roughly, “I sent the new girl to one of my favorite guys and you ran her off? You’ve got me questioning my own damned judgement.”

“She’s in the wrong department,” Dean answered firmly. “Move her. She’s meant to be a workin’ girl.”

“Her daddy, who works here by the way, would beg to differ,” spat Pam. “Next time I’ll send her to Benny. You’ve got my back, right Big Ben?”

“You know it,” he assured her with a wolfish smile. “Send me all your little pretty things… I’ll take real good care of ‘em.”

“I bet you will,” goaded Dean, moving towards Pam so she could cuff and collar him through the bars.

“Hey,” retorted Benny roughly, “I toldja you were too rough on that girl.”

“This from the guy who’s plannin’ to dish out a good pounding today,” laughed Dean, springing from his cage the moment the door was opened.

“More than one, brother, more than one.”

Dean was still chuckling when Pam led him into the salon. He wound up with Lydia today and since she didn’t linger with him or give any special treatment, he was one of the first done for a change.

Entering the gallery was the same heart pounding experience it always was, and as he scanned the room looking for someone who piqued his interest, Dean’s eyes wandered slowly over the crowd. There was a man who caught his attention sitting near the back. He was obviously trying to blend in and doing a terrible job of it. Practically swimming in an oversized trench coat, he looked nervous and ready to bolt for the door the moment that Dean locked eyes with him.

He chuckled under his breath as the man scuttled back in his seat and tried to break eye contact by looking away. Dean stood his ground as he considered the man, and when the guy glanced back, he seemed mortified to find Dean’s eyes still resting on him.

Some people were downright skittish the first time they came to a brothel. The fact that prostitution had been legal for almost a decade didn’t seem to matter to some folks… especially the church-going types. Those that found prostitution to be immoral always took a few visits to warm up to things. In Dean’s experience it seemed safe to say that those who spent their lives judging others, always tended to feel like they were being judged. Even when they weren’t.

The man currently cringing in the back was quite handsome – at least, what Dean could see of him. He had vibrant eyes and a rough five o’clock shadow, both attractive qualities as far as Dean was concerned. But, he wasn’t in the mood to waste his first and best fuck of the day on a man who would be too nervous to really perform. So, he gave the man a trademark wink and then turned his gaze to the rest of the crowd.

He made a play for a chiseled specimen in the front row that looked like he was up for a rough ride. But sadly, the winning bidder in today’s auction was a heavy-set woman in a leather bustier. Her breasts were mushrooming out of the top along with a generous roll that went all the way around. Dean flashed her a wicked smile as a way of masking his disappointment.

To his surprise, she was actually pretty cool. They shared some laughs and had a good time. She had consented when he asked, so he’d gratefully selected a vibrating butt plug from the assortment of provided toys. She watched him closely as he put it in. Then, her eyes went wide as he groaned in pleasure at the feeling of it buzzing deep inside him. It wasn’t the same as a real cock - not even close. But, it took the edge off of his need and allowed him to enjoy their session far more. Hell, he even managed to climax once. By his count, she came five times before the warning beeps began to signal the end of their time. He was still mounted and pumping into her when the door clunked open, a plug buzzing away between his butt cheeks and his customer pleading for him to never stop fucking her.

Sadly, the handler who came to retrieve him was Gordon. “Don’t you ever take a day off?” Dean grumbled irritably as he was pulled out into the hall.

“And miss seeing this?” he cajoled. “No way. Man, I gotta say it Winchester… you sure earned your commission today.”

“I’d rather get a commission for fucking than be earn a blue collar salary for walking people around all day.”

“At least I have my dignity.”

“Yeah. Sure you do,” chuckled Dean as he was brought to an empty table in the salon.

“Boy-oh-boy,” sighed Charlie as she clinked the lock on his cuffs, “you’ve sure got a hate-on for Gordon.”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

She shrugged as if the matter wasn’t worth any thought and then the two of them sank into conversation. Sadly, they didn’t get much time together because he didn’t need much to get him in shape for the rec room.  

When she was otherwise finished with him, Charlie leaned in over the table and let her long fiery locks tickle over his thighs as she gripped his shaft and began the standard tease that would prepare him to resume his duties.

“What’s it like?” he suddenly thought to ask her.

“What’s what like?”

“Having hot dogs in your hand all day when you’d prefer a taco?”

“Ew,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Call it a taco again and I’ll wax your eyebrows off.”

“Seriously. I wanna know. You only dig the ladies, right?”

“They call us the fairer sex for a reason, my friend. We’re just more appealing. So, do I love jacking you off every time we speak? Not so much. But the trade-off is… three quarters of my clients every day are goddesses.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize there were so many.”

“Oh yeah, the demand for ladies is much higher. There are actually three buildings for the women and only one for you men.”

“I had no idea.”

“Yep. I like you, Dean, so I don’t mind tuggin’ you back to attention. But the highlight of my day happens in a whole different room.”

“Got a favorite over there in the girls’ section?”

“Don’t say ‘girls’,” she snapped, her hand ceasing movement on him entirely. “That makes it sound creepy and pedo. Say women or ladies, please.”

Dean grinned widely at her. “Whatever keeps your hand pumpin’, sweetheart.”

“And yes,” she added, now stroking him again, “I do have a favorite. Her name is Gilda, and putting body glitter on her is my second favorite task of any given day.”

“Do I even need to ask which task is the best?”

“Nope. You’ve guessed it, I’m sure.”

“You live to finger her, don’t you?” he teased with a genuine smile.

“I’d lick her if it wasn’t a termination offence.”

Dean could picture two women together easily enough in his mind, and the visual stiffened him further under her hand. But then the image of her face popped up to ruin the fantasy. No matter how he tried, he simply couldn’t think of her that way. She was a sister to him. In fact, it was almost weird to have her touching him at all. But, despite her preferences, she was deft at her duties and his cock liked her hand on him, even if his brain didn’t particularly enjoy it.

Without the vibrating plug, the ache of need inside him was once more growing intolerable. His prostate was absolutely desperate for genuine stimulation and his entrance was dripping wet and waiting, not so patiently, to be roughly taken. Now that his cock was back to full attention, Dean was raring to go.

It was just as he was getting to his feet that a company messenger stepped up. Gordon was waiting nearby to attach a lead to his collar, but the messenger stepped between them to deliver instructions. “There’s been a last minute change and the boss wants this one for a private party.”

“Where do I take him?” asked Gordon.

Paused mid-stride, Dean waited expectantly. A private party was a rare treat these days. He didn’t do nearly as many as he used to, now that he’d grown into his adult body. Sadly, twinks were the most commonly requested ‘type’ for parties.

Unlike the auction winners who were confined to one small room for a relatively short amount of time, members of private parties were treated to a luxe affair. The attendees of these events ranged from bachelor/bachelorette parties to members of kinky clubs or even corporate executives. Each party was unique, its clientele able to select decorations and themes as well as the number of entertainers and what they wanted to do with them. Everything right down to the food and drinks were chosen ahead of time.

Dean had done a few events that were just plain weird, like the one where everyone had been costumed in medieval garb, eaten sloppily with their hands, and fucked like rabid animals. Or the one that plagued his memory as the single worst party ever. It had been thrown by a group of vampire enthusiasts. They’d been dressed in black cloaks, though some had worn bondage gear underneath, and they’d drunk what appeared to be blood from martini glasses. The sex workers had been laid into specially made wooden coffins which had holes cut out in strategic places. The holes allowed the guests who were role playing as vampires to walk around and touch the bodies inside. Talk about morbid entertainment. Ugh.

Early on, Dean had been a good sport. In fact, it had been a bit erotic to lay inside the coffin in the dark and feel unpredictable hands on his body. However, he’d been unable to roll over or even bend his knees in the cramped space and that had soon presented a problem - no anal stimulation at all. His body, having been chemically enhanced, was teased all over and repeatedly jacked off for hours on end with no regard for the gut-wrenching ache deep inside of him or the relentless throb from his untouched rim. He’d laid there half out of his mind, quivering in a puddle of his own slick for far too long.

He’d practically been sobbing by the time he was pulled from his coffin. At that point he’d been unable to even stand, crumpling to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Miserable and nauseous he’d begged through tears to finally be fucked. Never in all his life had he been as desperate as he’d been in that moment. Even now, his memory of the scene was distorted because it had all been witnessed through tears. Around him, several other men had been in a similar state when pulled from their coffins and the entire room had descended into madness.

On the one hand, being mounted and roughly taken by a room full of strangers had never felt so good. On the other hand, it had left him unable to pay attention to his own well-being or even provide informed consent. He’d barely noticed the multitude of teeth that punctured his skin, the blood that oozed from his body, or the wounds that had been opened on him as he’d been roughly handled. It was wasn’t just a dark and depraved gangbang. He’d quite literally been fucked into a bloody mess on the floor beneath an unholy tangle of depraved men and women. He’d begged for it, so technically he’d consented. But, his consent was dubious at best in that moment. Pushed so far beyond his breaking point, he’d barely even been functioning.  

The handlers had a hard time, he’d heard, inadequately prepared for the unique hazards of that particular group. Eventually they’d succeeded in pulling the costumed ‘vampires’ off of their victims, but by the time interventions were complete, everyone was suffering excessive blood loss.

The mess had been horrific. Everyone, whores and customers alike, had been completely covered in blood. It had been puddled on the carpet, splattered onto walls, and staining the faces and bodies of every single attendee. The scene had been so macabre that some of the cleaning staff had vomited, or so he’d later heard.

Actually, that was when he’d really gotten to know Benny. The two of them had been in recovery together for over a week as their blood loss, bite marks, lacerations, and subsequent infections were tended to.

To this day, he’s got no idea what it may have cost that group to throw their party. But he knew that his own portion of the commission had been equal to about six weeks of regular pay. And regular pay was nothing to sneeze at. The funds had been hard-earned, but even factoring in the the recovery time which was unpaid, Dean still felt he’d been adequately compensated for what had been done to him.

Extreme incidents like that aside, private parties were normally a treat to join and paid handsomely. More often than not, they boiled down to a group of men, occasionally men and women in mixed company, who had reserved a private space and a group of young whores for the purposes of unbridled drinking, drugs, and debauchery. These were the kind of parties Dean would have thrown if he’d had the imagination for it… and the cash.

The sudden brush of cold metal on his skin and the click of a latch brought Dean back from his memories and into the present. Gordon was pulling him away towards the hall. Looking back at Charlie he gave her a wink and a smile before exiting. Heading in the opposite direction of the rec room, they walked towards the wing where private parties were held. Thankfully, Gordon was quiet for the first time as far as Dean could remember.

As they drew closer to their destination, the décor changed from clean and minimalist to colorful and downright luxurious. There was thick, indulgent carpet beneath his feet now where there had been tile moments ago. There was soft lighting too, similar to the sleeping quarters. Music was playing.

Ushered into a prep room, Dean got his first inkling of what this party would be like. Similar to the salon he’d just been rejuvenated in, the prep room was equipped with everything that could possibly be needed. It was smaller though, set up to serve half a dozen rather than twenty or thirty. Already present were several others who would be the center of attention at this party and Dean’s hole quivered eagerly between his legs as he noticed Benny among them. He was being fitted with bondage gear. Dean wasn’t necessarily a fan of heavy gear, but he liked it a little. For example, the leather bands around Benny’s chest were sexy as fuck. But, if they put a hood on him, Dean would be less inclined to enjoy it. He didn’t like it when the Doms were too scary looking. His fear during scenes with those kinds of costuming tended to be a bit more real than he could actually enjoy.

Kevin was also here, but he was wearing knee socks and a tiny skirt. He seemed to be enjoying himself, twirling around and looking in the mirror with another twink whose name Dean didn’t know. He felt a small pang of jealousy as he watched them and realized that he’d never again be able to pull off feminine like that. Right now he was kind of missing how it used to feel when he’d be bent over in a short skirt and subjected to spankings in front of a group of onlookers. Seriously. Being spanked… being fingered… being blown… being fucked… it was never better than it was in a skirt.

But, on the upside, Kevin would likely be unable to work tomorrow - confined to the medical room with his ass bared to the ceiling and covered in balm. Dean, on the other hand, would probably wake up ready to get laid again.

Led over to a station, he sat quietly as his hair was fixed and minimalist makeup was applied. When prompted, he stood to allow several handlers some elbow room as they worked him into a cock ring, a black G-string, and honest-to-god leather cowboy chaps. Digging how he looked when led to a mirror, Dean smiled widely as a cowboy hat was placed atop his head. The finishing touch seemed to be a bandana around his neck, the only other thing he was wearing as he was handed a set of boots to step into.

“Damn I like this get-up,” he grinned into the mirror.

“It suits ya, brother,” said Benny, stepping up behind him. “Hope I get a chance to bend ya over in those chaps, man, it’s all I can think about since they put ‘em on ya.”

“Dude,” Dean replied, turning to face his friend, “I think this is gonna be one helluvah night.”

“Bet yer ass,” he laughed, giving Dean a playful swat.

“Alright, alright, alright,” barked a commanding voice. Turning to face that voice, Dean saw that the owner of the brothel had come to speak to them. This was rare. Mr. Crowley’s name was on everything from the company uniforms to the sign out front. But it was exceedingly rare to see him in person. As the room quieted for him, the firmness in their boss’s voice grew playful. “This party is special, my kittens. The guest of honor is a dear, dear friend of mine. As always, there are rules and since all of you are contracted workers, you know them well. There will be an abundance of handlers to assist with any unexpected events, but please, give leeway where you can and do everything in your power to make this night unforgettable for everyone in attendance.”

“We always do,” hollered someone from the back.

Dean nodded along, knowing it was true. This was the best job he’d ever had and he was paid very well to do it. He owed this man his loyalty and he’d give it. Hell, he’d give more than loyalty. Crowley wasn’t bad to look at and had the swagger of a man blessed with three inches more cock than could ever be needed. Dean would service Crowley fully and fervently if ever given the chance.

Locking eyes with Dean, as though his private thought had been heard from across the room, Mr. Crowley cut through the bodies to approach and practically purred as he said, “Well, well. Hello Cowboy. You ready to be rode hard and put away wet?”

“You joining the party?” he dared to ask.

“Mmm. Temping,” smiled the man, leaning in to run the back of one finger down Dean’s newly oiled chest. “But I’d hate to be greedy. We all have work to do, after all. And for tonight, your duty is to my friends who have paid handsomely for your time. But, feel free to imagine that it’s me bending you over, stud. In fact, call out my name while they’re fucking you. I’d love to see the look on their faces if a Freudian slip like that were to occur.”

Dean smiled at the man’s twisted humor and leaned into his touch. A moment later the spell was broken and it was time to get down to business. To a swanky tune, they all formed a line and entered the party room to a round of boisterous applause.

As Dean had assumed would be the case, the entertainment staff numbered more than the guests when handlers were added in. For now, the handlers stood around the edges of the room in a relaxed posture. If things went well, that’s how they’d stay. Dean followed along in a sort of sexy conga line, swaying his hips to the beat as they moved out into the midst of the guests. They were all sprawling on comfortable furniture with drinks in hand. Around the opulent room were trays laden with food and fountains that bubbled champagne and dribbled chocolate.

Experienced in parties, Dean made a full circuit of the room and watched the faces of each guest before settling on the one that seemed to covet his attention the most. Grateful for his bowed legs, Dean made a show of approaching the man in a cowboy’s gait. Then, he kicked up a booted foot and swung one leg completely over the man’s head in a show of dexterity before coming to rest effortlessly in his lap.

Immediately there were hands on his bare ass and Dean felt a shiver of delight snaking up his spine. He had to wriggle to get the leather chaps to sit right over his hips, but he’d soon settled into a slow grind to the music. The man’s hands on him squeezed and kneaded the meat of his ass as Dean’s customer stared enviously at his swiveling hips and shiny, bare chest. Between his cheeks there was moisture already starting to gather, despite having just been wiped down after the chaps were put on. The party had barely started and already his greedy hole was juicy and clenching - dying to be fucked. Behind him, he felt the ghost of a touch, rough fingers sliding over his back. Turning, he saw that it was Benny brushing past him. He watched for a moment as his friend led a man away from the group, already playing the part of the heavy bear and Dom that he was clearly meant to embody. The client was practically giddy as he followed his rented Dom, obviously excited for whatever was about to happen.

Returning his attention to the John he’d been riding in slow motion, Dean saw that his eyes were dilated to the size of dinner plates. He was on something good. As Dean rolled his hips sensually, his engorged cock swayed tantalizingly in front of him. The man was staring it at and his eyes were clouding over with lust.

“Can I touch it?” he whispered in a husky voice.

“You can do whatever you want, partner,” grinned Dean. “It’s your rodeo.”

With that said, Dean pressed his weight down on the man, finding a decent sized cock trapped under his blue suit pants. Having already been kept waiting for far too long today, Dean was practically panting to be fucked and his body spasmed as he heard the man groan from under his shifting weight.

Arching his back and pushing his meaty ass into the man’s hands, Dean tipped his head back and hoped the guy would suck a nipple or grab his cock, anything really.

A firm hand coming to rest on his shoulder snapped his attention to someone who had come up behind him and he craned his neck around to see who it was. To his surprise, his gaze came to rest on Mr. Crowley. The man was intriguing and Dean secretly hoped to one day hear the ten little words that had been rumored to mean getting some action: _‘Mr. Crowley would like to see you in his office.’_

“Enjoying yourself Mr. Whitman?” asked Crowley over Dean’s head.

“Yeah,” husked Dean’s first john of the day, “you sure know how to throw a party.”

“Well, this young man is one of my best,” praised Mr. Crowley, “he frequently sets new records in the auction house and I know he’ll give you the ride of your life tonight. Isn’t that right Dean?”

Flattered that Crowley knew of his achievements in the bidding room and thrilled by the personal attention, Dean felt his chest swell as he gave an exaggerated nod. Then he returned to the slow grind of hips that allowed him to feel a hardened cock against his damp crack.

It was easy to tell when his boss had moved on because Dean’s customer, Mr. Whitman apparently, dropped his eyes back to Deans naked skin.

“What’s your best trick, cowboy?” he asked playfully.

“Riding your cock,” he answered with a raised chin.

“How ‘bout you blow me first,” challenged the man. The line would’ve been better delivered while shoving Dean to the floor, he thought, but it wasn’t his job to judge. It was his job to please. So, without hesitation, he scuttled backwards and dropped to his knees on the carpet.

“You got a name?” he asked as he pushed between the man’s knees and began unzipping his pants. “Or should I just scream out ‘Whitman’ when I come?”

“As long as you scream, it’s all good,” reassured the man. “But if you must know, it’s Alex.”

“I might come just from blowing you,” grinned Dean, enjoying the banter that seemed to come easily for them.

“You really want my cock, don’tcha?” he teased as Dean pulled him out of his slacks. “You wanna ride it don’tcha cowboy.”

“You know I do,” he whispered, his voice probably lost to the background music as he leaned in. Alex’s dick had felt larger through his pants. But, that was actually okay with Dean. No one cares to get down on a tiny cock, but the more average-sized ones are definitely easier to blow. Another bonus to the average sized cock? Not much prep needed. When it’s time to fuck, they slide right in.

Closing his eyes to enjoy it, Dean sank down on the man and put his entire body into the blow job. He loved sucking cock. Exuberant and pulsing with lust, he hoped others were watching and found himself quickly picking up speed the moment his cowboy hat was plucked from his head. Moving freely then, he rocked his entire body as he bobbed his head on the man’s plump dick, pushing his bare ass up in the air as an invitation to any party-goer. In fact, if some Good Samaritan would just come along right now and plunge a cock into him, Dean thought he might faint with relief.

With Alex’s hands combing through his hair, Dean pulled out all his best tricks. He varied his pace as he moved artfully up and down on the shaft, pausing frequently to devote his tongue to the crown or base. He cupped the man’s warm balls and rolled them, using the fingers of his other hand to simultaneously tickle the taint. It was a sacrifice to fully devote his mouth and both hands to the client when a hand on his own cock would have delivered such sweet relief. But, Mr. Crowley was likely watching and Dean wanted to show off his utter devotion to the job, not his selfishness.

Thankfully, his sweet ass hadn’t been on display for too long before someone noticed it and came to enjoy. The feel of hands spreading his cheeks apart and tearing his G-string brought a curl of anticipation to his gut. When a thick finger slid down over his pucker, Dean pushed back onto it eagerly. Moving sensually as he gave head, he rolled his hips and artfully fucked himself onto that single digit and soon it was two, then three.

Deep throating Alex, Dean grinned around his mouthful when he felt the awkward shuffle of limbs behind him that indicated his newcomer was getting to their knees behind him. Empty for a moment, his entrance seemed to twitch and spasm as it waited for the inevitable push of a hardened dick.

When the moment of penetration came, the man’s girth was surprisingly wide and didn’t easily breach his rim. Grabbing Dean’s shoulder and pulling back, the man forced himself to burst past it. His breath hitched as it happened and a shiver of delight snaked up his spine. Being pulled back had brought his open mouth away from the dick he’d been sucking, and Dean was now gulping in breaths as his body tried but failed to adjust. The cock he’d been speared with was simply wider than he’d been prepped for.

The man seemed to be giving him a much-needed moment, so Dean used it to his advantage. He closed his eyes and made a conscious effort to relax his anus. With his eyes shut it was easy to imagine what he must look like from behind... chaps lining his hips, G-string torn and dangling, ass cheeks split apart, and his pink hole stretched wide around a mighty cock.

He knew he’d been riding at least three fingers while he’d been sucking Whitman's dick and a fluttering feeling of excitement stirred in his chest as Dean imagined how big that cock must really be if three fingers had left his hole so inadequately stretched. Suddenly wondering if perhaps this newcomer was actually Benny, Dean opened his eyes and peered over his shoulder. Nope. Not Benny. A big, hulking specimen though. For sure. Dean barely noticed the guys beer gut and neck beard because the handsome face and steely look in his eyes made up for a lot.

“Get back to it,” growled Whitman, grabbing a fistful of Dean’s hair and shoving his head back down. Titillated by the rough treatment, Dean’s pulse revved up and he opened wide over that average sized dick to take it deep. Behind him, Mr. Beer-gut with the broad shoulders and hard eyes was gathering Dean’s hips between his palms. Knowing he was about to take a much-needed pounding, he gave himself over to it. As the thrusts began to rock him, Dean’s body was heaved forward onto the cock in his mouth over and over. He wasn’t using his muscles for this at all - instead he just remained pliant and let the man behind him do all the work involved in giving a killer blow job. Seriously. All he had to do was keep his throat open and his lips curled over his teeth.

Doing exactly that, Dean let his mind go fuzzy as he enjoyed the ride. The force of the thrusts from behind sent him forward hard enough to bruise his throat on the cock he was sucking and with each repetition, the beast of a man behind him would haul Dean back by the hips and hold him as he withdrew his dick almost all the way. Every time the tip caught on Dean’s rim, he’d get inch closer to orgasm. Then, as the burly man barreled into him again, Dean would snatch a quick breath before being heaved forward onto that wet cock again. As he was impaled simultaneously from both ends, he was also absorbing a jolt of pleasure from the sweet spot deep inside him. His entire body was humming with pleasure and he might’ve screamed for how good it felt - if his mouth hadn’t been so blessedly full.

Despite the abundance of slick that his body was pumping out, Dean’s hole was suffering as it was stretched to its limits. Beyond. His rim was burning but at this point it still felt good. The hours he’d been been waiting to actually get some cock had felt like an eternity. And now he was actually grateful to be getting horse-fucked.

He felt so libidinous that he couldn’t possibly hold in all the lust. It surged through his veins. The pressure inside was like boiling water pushing up and out of an unwatched pot. He had an overwhelming urge to just tip his head back and scream. That exact moment was when Dean finally came. Hot cum shot from his dick as he was wildly fucked, and because of the motion, ribbons of it arced through the air. Some of it splattered up onto his own chest and some decorated Alex’s olive skin. Dean didn’t see it because of the explosions of white light going off behind his eyelids. He only saw the aftermath, when the powerful feeling had waned enough that he could open his eyes. His body was still being flung forward and pulled back over and over as the man behind him chased his own end, but Dean’s eyes took in the mess he’d made as well as the blissed out expression on Alex Whitman’s face.

Having just survived a mind-blowing orgasm without stroking out, Dean returned his attention to giving sensational head. The man was bucking up into his mouth now, ready to come, and Dean sucked hard on his tip every chance he got. When Alex came, the thrusting from behind stilled, likely because the big bear of a man was watching it happen. Dean clamped down and smiled around the load as it pumped into his mouth. Swallowing it down, he continued to milk the man until his cock was spent. Then, he glanced up at the man’s face and smiled into it when Alex leaned forward to try and kiss him, perhaps wanting to lick the taste of himself from Dean’s tongue. But, just then, Dean’s power top started thrusting again. With Dean now being roughly fucked from behind, they kept missing when they tried to kiss and ended up breaking into laughter. .

“I’m gonna ride you next,” promised Dean, ready to crawl into the man’s lap and get started. “It’ll take you forever to come a second time and I’ll fuckin’ love every minute of it.”

“Maybe later,” shrugged Alex nonchalantly, “Right now, I’ve got a better idea.” With Dean still taking thrusts from behind, his first john rolled out from under him and moved away. Following the movement, Dean saw him heading to a nearby chaise lounge where the twink whose name Dean didn’t know was being spit roasted between two dudes. With his skirt thrown up over his back, the youngster’s cock cage was visible and inside it, the soft flesh of him was a bright cherry red.

Dean paused a moment to ease himself down over the couch and into a similar position before he encouraged Mr. Beer-gut to continue. For a while, he watched Alex. The man approached the twink and then shoved up behind him. With hardly a word to any of them, he pushed his wet cock right into the boys hole along side the one already pumping. The young boy screamed out around the cock in his mouth but he never faltered. He took it like a champ. A champ in a dainty skirt.

Rocking with Mr. Beer-gut now, Dean continued watching the twink as he humped his way to another climax. The boy was incredible to watch, his own pleasure strangled by the metal cage that kept his dick small. A string of precum was hanging from that little cock though, and Dean felt himself grow harder as he watched the boy be fucked within an inch of his life.

Behind him, Dean felt his giant finally starting to reach his peak, thrusts growing shorter and more abortive before he finally pushed forward one last time and came with a shudder. Dean could feel the way the man’s penis twitched inside him as it pulsed cum into him. The man’s body was slumping onto him now as it rode out the aftershocks of a strong orgasm. At this point, it was clear that the ride was over.

When the big man pulled out he did it slowly, probably because he wanted to watch his load ooze back out of Dean’s abused hole. After the man rose and left, Dean got to his feet. He could feel fluids running out of him and tried to clench his cheeks together but they wouldn’t cooperate. Knowing he was far too stretched out and used up to be appealing to anyone, he walked over to a handler and pleaded battle fatigue.  

He was led, staggering, back to the prep room where he flopped onto a table. The moment his cock ring was removed, he groaned in relief. Laying there, breathing heavily, he was given a calming massage. Then, he stood on shaky legs to be washed and douched. By the time he was being patted dry, he could once more control his butt cheeks. They clenched at his command now and the attendant working on him smiled approvingly. Back on the table, his backside was expertly massaged, special attention being paid to his fucked out rim. Intermittently, he felt a cool, wet cloth being dabbed on his sphincter and recognized the familiar scent of witch hazel. Soon enough, he was being massaged again. Tingles began to gather around his hole as the elasticity returned to it and soon he was clenching, already feeling a new wave of eroticism descend on him.

“Well,” hummed his attendant, “I think you’re just about ready for round two. How do you feel?”

“Awesome,” he grinned, favoring her with a smile before turning over to show her his flaccid cock. “Now, how ‘bout we pay some attention to this little guy?”  

“Little?” she teased. “Not for long.”

He sighed contentedly when she took him in hand and felt his body coming to life as she stroked him back to hardness. When the cock ring tightened around him once more, Dean knew the TLC was almost over.

“You ready to get back in there?” she asked him.

“Unless you’re gonna give it a kiss, yeah.”

“Would if I could,” she lamented, probably to stroke his ego.

“You sayin’ my dick ain’t worth gettin’ fired over?”

“Sorry, but no,” she answered warmly. “There are a few in the next room that have paid a small fortune for it though. Maybe you should go indulge them.”

“Think I will,” he nodded, getting to his feet. She and the handler helped him into a fresh pair of leather chaps, brown this time, and left him comando beneath. His cock jutted straight out in front of him as if it really meant business this time.

Stepping into boots, he then looked back at her once more so she could drop a new cowboy hat on his head. Glancing at her name tag for the first time, Dean addressed her directly as Kim and teasingly said, “what, no bandana?”

“I’m fresh out. Honestly, I’d like to give you the gold star of a lawman, but what the hell would I pin it to?”

Mirroring her impish grin, Dean was ready to go now. He turned his attention to the waiting handler but before stepping away from Kim, he turned back to her and said, “Thanks for takin’ care of me.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Escorted back into the big room, he was stunned by the display of debauchery before him. Unsure of where to even start, he began to saunter through. Clearly this party was some kind of reward to the board of directors of a very profitable corporation. Each had likely supplied a list of items to be indulged in during the party and the result was a discordant array of costumes and kinks. If was utter chaos.

Dean’s eyes roved over a couple of young girls in cheerleading costumes. They were tag teaming a fat man in a pinstripe suit that probably cost five grand. There was no way that man was leaving without buying a souvenir video. In a dark corner nearby, Benny was bringing pleasure and pain to a man of small stature and also providing entertainment for several onlookers.

Both twinks were noticeably absent from the room, likely being cleaned up at the moment, and, between two couches, there was a pulsing, writhing orgie happening on the floor.

To his right, Dean saw that food had been shoved aside on one of the tables and there was now a man splayed out over it with a naughty nurse tending to him. Wondering what she was doing to him, Dean edged closer to get a look and was immediately sorry. She was giving him an enema. He tried to keep his poker face on, never wanting to grimace and cause shame to someone else for their own unique kinks. He’d have done so even if it wasn’t one of the standard house rules. He was just turning away from them when Dean suddenly recognised the nurse as Lisa.

Feeling obligated to at least say hello, he stepped up to her side. Not wanting to interrupt if he was unwelcome, Dean used only his eyes and the tilt of his head to ask her if it was okay to speak. She gave him a wide smile and broke the silence by saying, “Well hello, cowboy.”

“Oh yeah,” echoed the man on the table, “Hello cowboy.”

Smoothly avoiding any view of Lisa’s hands or the clients ass, Dean looked only at the man’s face as he smiled flirtatiously and said, “Hello yourself.”

“That’s one corn-fed cock you’ve got there, cowboy.”

“Whatcha wanna do with it,” he replied, hoping for the least gross option.

“I wanna suck it,” the man said firmly. Dean was immediately relieved.

“It’s yours buddy,” he grinned, using two hands to guide it gently into the man’s mouth. Then, he tipped his head back to enjoy the sensation for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, Lisa was staring at him.

“That look suits you,” she said with a genuine smile.

“I could say the same,” he smirked, letting his eyes roam down over the tight white nurse’s dress and the silky stockings that clipped to a garter and left the skin of her thighs exposed.

Pulling off Dean’s dick for a moment, the client on the table lifted his head to bark at Lisa, “Gimme another one.”

Plastering on a fake smile for him, Lisa reached into a nearby medical bag and pulled out another kit. She took her time, lubing and prepping him as if he was to be fucked, basically making it good for the guy, and then eased a new tube upside him.

“Gimme a three count before you squeeze that bottle sweet-cheeks,” he commanded, once again abandoning Dean’s blow job to order Lisa around. He almost felt sorry for her now, knowing she wasn’t enjoying this at all and that she was likely aching between her legs with the need to be fucked. He stood there and let the rich man blow him as Lisa prepared to shoot saline up inside him. Again.

Dean could hear her counting off and when he knew she’d done the deed, he reached out to comb his fingers through the john’s hair. Begrudgingly, he had to give the guy credit because even when he moaned sensually through his enema, he never faltered on Dean’s cock.  

“Come on my face,” he urged, pulling off only long enough to speak, “give that whore nurse something to clean up.”

 _Like she hasn’t had enough already_ , he thought wryly.

Staying to finish with the client was his duty so Dean stayed. But, if he was to hold out any hope of being able to blow cum on this guy’s face for him, he knew he’d have to conjure up a pretty good fantasy.

While mentally perusing his spank-bank arsenal, Dean tried to single out a person he was attracted to… that way he’d have someone good in mind as he played out a kinky scene in his head. Oddly enough, the image that kept coming to mind was of the shy guy who’d been avoiding his gaze in the gallery that morning… the nervous dude with the frumpy trench coat and ruggedly handsome face. Sure, the guy was good looking. But he was timid and shy. Not really Dean’s type. Preferring someone more exciting to fantasize about, Dean tried to discard the man’s image and move on to someone else. But, oddly enough, he couldn’t. So, even though it was a bit odd to be fixated on someone this way, Dean decided to just go with it and see where a fantasy of this man might take him.

Still petting the head of his customer as he was blown, Dean kept his eyes shut and let his mind wander for a moment. Soon he was smiling. He was in his father's ‘67 Impala. Younger in his daydream, Dean was still hunting with his dad and had left the old man back at their hotel to make a food run. Relaxing into the scene, Dean saw it play out like a movie behind his eyelids. Cruising down a dark country highway on a moonlit night with his windows down and a warm breeze in his hair, he was listening to Zep on the radio when out of nowhere a hitchhiker came into view. The man was walking along the side of the road in a billowing trench coat. Dean let his foot off the gas and rumbled up beside the stranger. Leaning out the window he hollered, “Ya need a lift?”

Wordlessly, the man turned to him. Even now, in a fantasy of his own making, Dean was surprised by the intensity of those eyes. Deep and magnetic, they held his own with ease and wouldn’t allow him to look away as the man nodded in the affirmative. Watching as the guy climbed in, Dean suddenly realized that the dude was naked under his coat. Unable to control his wandering eye, Dean took in the man’s hairy legs and his milky white neck. Trying not to stare, he wondered if there was hair on that chest, even as the man cupped himself though the coat and slid closer to Dean.

“Thanks for the ride,” whispered the stranger, breaking his silence for the first time as he pulled Dean’s hand down into his lap.

“You don’t have to,” his imaginary self whispered, wanting to reassure this man that sexual favors were not expected in return for a ride.

“Want to,” the man breathed, pressing Dean’s hand down as he pushed his package up into their palms.

“This is my dad’s car,” Dean added, knowing his old man would recognize the scent of sex and the appearance of dried cum.

“Then don’t come,” his mystery man said, breath ghosting over Dean’s ear. Then, he bent over and shoved his head into Dean’s lap. Unzipping him with clumsy fingers, the stranger pulled him out as they accelerated down the highway. Having a warm mouth sink down on him in fantasy and in real life at the same time was doing something for Dean.

As he was sucked off by a random john at this private party, he was also being blown in his dad’s car, young and horny and still secretly experimenting with dudes whenever he could.

His fantasy guy was good too, moaning on his cock and taking him deep. He had to stop the car or he was going to crash. Pulling over into a roadside motel, Dean suddenly realized that he’d inadvertently driven back to hotel where he’d left his father. The idea of being blown in such close proximity to John Winchester was scintillating and Dean felt a swell of carnality rising up in him as he watched himself put the car in park. His eyes immediately gravitated towards the window of his father’s motel room, but his hand came to rest on the back of the head that was blowing him.

Sitting behind the wheel of his dad’s car, Dean rolled his hips into that warm and welcoming mouth. He felt his tip brush the back of the guy’s throat and he groaned aloud. In the real world, his groan was wasted on a client but in his mind, it was given to a mysterious stranger. A light flicked on in the motel room and Dean sucked in a ragged breath. “Get off,” he barked to the man, “I think my dad’s comin’ out.”

The man didn’t relent though, only sucked harder on his tip and hummed as he did so. “C’mon man,” he whispered in his fantasy, “my dad’s gonna see us.”

“Don’t care,” the man answered, the words sounding muffled as they were whispered over his dick. “Let him see.”

“Yeah,” agreed Dean, lost in his pleasure, “let him see. Let him know. I am what I am and I’m not gonna hide it anymore… I’m a cockslut… a whore… I fuck and get fucked… and I like it best with a man… watch me dad… watch me fuck this dude… watch me daddy…

Suddenly swept up on a heavy wave of carnal lust, Dean felt himself racing towards an orgasm. Coming to his senses just in the knick of time, he opened his eyes and pulled his cock from the business man’s mouth. Then, with the image of bright blue eyes floating in his mind and the word ‘daddy’ slipping from his mouth, Dean painted the man’s face with splatters of his cum.

Stunned by how quickly his fantasy had gone awry and how fast it had brought him to orgasm, Dean opted for pushing the entire thing out of his mind for now. The ramifications of what his imagination had created were more than he could handle at the moment.

Focusing on the customer, Dean cupped the man’s cheek and ran his thumb through his own spend. “Like that?” he sighed, hoping to end their exchange.

“I liked you callin’ me daddy,” he answered with a lewd smile. And then Dean watched his eyes shift. Following the gaze, he turned to see that one of the twinks was back. Not Kevin, but the other one. The boy’s hair was so blonde that it was white and he wore a cut off t-shirt to display his flat stomach. A short pleated skirt swished around his legs as he sashayed into the room.

“You can fuck off,” the customer, shoving Dean way from him and getting up from the table.

Watching him go, Dean and Lisa moved to stand with their shoulders touching. “Sorry ‘bout him,” he said to her.

“Not one of my favorite tricks,” she admitted.

Glassy eyed, the two watched as the john that neither of them liked stepped up to the young boy, shoved him to his knees, and said, “Call me daddy.”

“We should probably make a round,” he sighed.

“I need it bad, Dean.”

“I know. Me too,” he told her. “Let’s go get some.”

And with that, they parted company. As he walked a circuit around the room, Dean saw that the orgy on the floor was still going. There was a man passed out on one of the couches and Benny had someone down on the floor licking his boots as he tapped a riding crop on their bare hole.

With his cock still a bit wet from his last exchange, Dean walked slowly looking for someone who wanted him or for someone he wanted. Preferably both.

“Hey cowboy,” called a vaguely familiar voice. Turning, Dean’s gaze fell on Whitman, the dude he’d blown while getting horse-fucked. “If you still wanna go for a ride, I’m up for it.”

“I s’pose,” he grinned as he approached. Then, gesturing down towards his chaps, he added, “I mean, I’m already dressed for it.”

As his eyes slid down Dean’s body, Alex smirked and shot back, “You’re a real slut for cock, aintcha?”

The words were harsh, but there were delivered in the fun and teasing tone that the two had been sharing earlier. Besides, being called filthy names had always sent a shot of arousal straight to his groin, why bother pretending not to like it? There was a cheerleader blowing Whitman as he engaged Dean, but he pushed them away as Dean stepped up to him and said, “C’mon down here, cowboy. Show me what’cha can do.”

Compared to the enema dude… Alex was movie-star hot. Dean found himself wearing a genuine smile as he swung his leg up and over. With his cock jutting out in front of him, he eased himself down. Once seated, he adjusted his chaps and then reached back to pull his cheeks apart and tease the man’s dick with his juicy, wet entrance. Whitman’s package was still sopping wet from having been blown and it was cool against his overheated flesh where it came into contact with his crack. As Alex was pulling Dean’s chest closer to his own, another party-goer was stepping up to claim the spurned cheerleader.

This was going to be good. He’d needed a fuck desperately, and could already tell that this was going to be a damned good one. Ready to enjoy it, Dean reached behind himself, gave Whitman’s cock a few strokes, and then pushed two fingers into his own entrance. Working himself open, he tipped his head back and let out an indulgent sigh as lips pressed to his clavicle and began working their way down. Kisses turned to nibbles and nips when those lips reached his nipples and, yeah, Dean was practically purring. He’d not even noticed the man’s arms twining around him, but when another set of fingers pushed into his eager entrance to tangle with his own, Dean’s body buckled from the jolt of pleasure that shot through him. Two sets of fingers, bending and twisting discordantly inside him, combined with the erotic tease of teeth on his nipples soon had Dean bending and flexing with the effort of containing the wild lust that churned within him.

“I’m gonna ride your cock so hard,” Dean promised breathily. Letting his own fingers slip back out, Dean used both hands as he rose up to reposition himself. Alex left his fingers buried deep inside him, though, and as Dean began to sink down onto the man’s shaft, those fingers pulled gently to open him as wide as possible.

As he eased himself lower, Dean’s could feel that the man had left one finger still sheathed inside of him and his gaze flicked up to meet the other man’s eye. He was smirking and fuck if that wasn’t a turn on.

Feeling himself filled as he bottomed out, Dean let out a guttural moan and then arranged his knees on the lounge chair. Starting slow and steadily picking up speed, he relished how sensual it was to actually ride a cock while outfitted as a cowboy. With one hand on his hat and the other gripping his own dick, Dean rolled his hips artfully as he rose up and then plunged back down. The ache of want in him was quelled as he bore down on the cock buried inside him. Each time he sank down, it lit up the sweet spot deep inside him to deliver a small burst of pleasure and escalate the humming sensation in his lower body. Still feeling sexy, Dean used his hat as a prop and posed as he rose and fell, impaling himself rhythmically. He loved the raunchy sound of his wet hole squelching natural lube and the feel of his weighty cock slapping down on his partner’s stomach each time he bottomed out.

“Wanna see me shoot, Alex?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna see this cowboy come on your cock?”

“Yeah.”

As he began to jack himself with a heavy hand, Dean said, “I tasted you when you came in my mouth. You gonna taste me when I come on your belly?”

“Yeah,” panted Whitman.

“I love ridin’ your dick so much, I might come twice.”

“Fuck yeah.”

Watching his own hand as he jacked himself in time with his bouncing, Dean’s chin dropped when he felt a climax coming. Keeping his eyes on his own tip, he grinned when he both felt and saw the first spatters of jizz shooting out. Keeping his eyes open was impossible though, and he wound up with his mouth open and his eyes clenched shut as he faltered in his thrusting to enjoy the orgasm.

The minute he was done pulsing, he was moving again. Already feeling a building pressure in his groin, Dean picked up the pace even as he watched Whitman keep his promise and drag a finger through the jizz on his abdomen and lift it to his lips.

“That’s hot,” Dean whispered, letting go of his dick just so he could watch it bounce between them.

“You’re hot.”

“I am hot,” said Dean with a tip of his hat and his most adorable smirk. With that, Whitman came. He clenched Dean’s hips as he pumped his spend up into him and then went lax. It was almost comical the way the man was wilting like an un-watered plant on a hot summer's day.

Dean was only halfway to his next orgasm when Whitman’s cock flagged. Dean got up when he felt it slip out him and took off his hat again. Holding it over his heart as he bowed to Whitman, he gave the guy a quick peck on the cheek. It was meant to be his graceful exit and when he turned away, Dean was already looking for someone else to fuck.  

Around him, the party seemed to be dying down. There were now two dudes passed out on couches and the crowd observing Benny had dwindled as they’d traded in a live show for the real thing. But, off by himself was a man Dean hadn’t actually noticed yet. Walking towards him in a bowlegged cowboy gait, Dean saw that the man’s cock was out of his pants and hard as steel. He stepped up and said, “What can I do for ya?”

“You can fuckin’ blow me,” said the man. “Or ride me, if you want, but I’ll never be able come.”

Bending down to climb into his lap, Dean noticed his eyes and the burning hot temperature of his skin. The dude was coked out of his mind.

“Suits me just fine,” Dean replied honestly. He slid gracefully down onto the man’s dick and started to move. “I feel like I could come on your cock a hundred times and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“I’d like to see that,” the man grinned.

Dean was sweating inside his chaps and the leather squeaked with each thrust, but he didn’t give a fuck. Impaled on a cock that was just the right size and his for the taking, he just went to town. Bouncing faster as he jacked his own dick, Dean was lost to the world as he began approaching another climax.

“Fuck,” he cursed aloud as the feeling bubbled up inside him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’ve got a nice cock.”

A spatter of opaque cum landed on the man’s rumpled suit and he smiled like he’d lick it up if he weren’t having more fun watching Dean get off. Slowing for a moment to enjoy the waves of euphoria that were rolling over him, Dean was surprised to hear a new voice from behind him. Apparently another party-goer had been watching and was pleased with what he saw. He was quite handsome for an older dude. Dean liked his grey beard and mustache which were artfully trimmed and groomed..

“Got room for one more?”

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, sitting forward a bit on his coked out executive. The man slid up behind him and all three of them rearranged themselves a little to find a comfortable place for everyone's knees. Reaching behind his own back, Dean pulled his cheeks apart. His puckered hole was tight around the cock he’d just cum on, but there was wiggle room. The older man didn’t waste time. He put fingers on the other man’s shaft and skillfully worked them up into Dean right along with it.

“What’s your name?” he asked the guy.

“I’m Cain,” the man answered as his fingers began stretching Dean’s rim. “I’m the top dog in this pack. And I’m gonna make you my bitch.”

“I can’t fuckin’ wait,” he snapped, pushing back a little to emphasize his need. The Cokehead, who seemed to follow the conversation but choose to remain excluded from it, began to roll up his sleeves. As that was happening, Dean was feeling the blunt head of a second cock push up against his hole.

Eager and sopping wet, he pushed back into it until he felt the crown pop through. Then, he  began sinking down and moaned sensually as he felt himself spread wide and filled deep. Now speared by two cocks, Dean began a slow grind. It tugged on his hole in just the right way, emphasizing the wide girth of his double penetration. Soon Cain was moving too, humping from behind and while Dean remained anchored by the weighty shaft of Mr. Cokehead. Sweat was gathering in the small of his back and on his upper lip as he rode out the thrusts. Surprising him completely, the cokehead reached up with both hands and began tweaking Dean’s nipples. The added stimulation really skyrocketed Dean’s experience and he fisted his cock as he quickly came again. With the man behind him cursing and laying into him hard, Dean kept still for a moment to enjoy being fucked through his orgasm and then immediately began pursuing another one.

His cock was heavy and bouncing with him, and he grabbed it again, sweating and grunting from the exertion as the feeling of building pleasure became a physical weight in his belly. He wasn’t feeling like a cowboy anymore, he was feeling like a wild, bucking bronco.

“Yeah,” he growled to Cain, “I’m your fucking bitch. Give me all ya got.”

Dean’s heart was a jack-hammer in his chest as Cain reached around to fist Deans cock at the exact same time he pushed another finger up into his hole.

“Oh yeah,” Dean called out, “Fuck your bitch. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

Euphoria swept over him like a wave. To the guy working his nipples, Dean growled, “Pinch ‘em. Yeah, like that. Fuckin’ hurt me, man.”

With his nipples and his cock being worked over, his asshole stretched over two cocks and a finger, and a voice in his ear reminding him what a shameless whore he really was, Dean came long and hard. No cum leaked from his tip anymore, but his back side was soaked and sloppy. Racked with sobs of pure pleasure, Dean felt himself blacking out. _No, not yet,_ he thought. _Lemme just get one more._

Today it would seem, was his lucky day. A loud crack of sound caught his attention and his eyes snapped open as he was startled by it. The pain became recognizable a moment later… he’d been spanked harshly on his left butt cheek.

“Again,” he called, “Keep me goin’.”

A few droplets of cum spurted out from his tip as he was struck again, and his body seemed to shift into overdrive. Fucking with everything he had, Dean felt the churning in his lower abdomen that signalled the approach of another orgasm. From behind him, Dean absorbed the stinging sensation of a hand laying siege to his ass cheek. The pain aroused something deep inside and it rose to the surface along with the crescendo of an orgasm.

This one was weaker than the last but he clung to the buzz it created under his skin and screamed out for more as he lost control of his senses completely. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed, but he couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear either… no sound reached him except a stranged high pitched keening. Suddenly, he felt like he was falling, his body tumbling and twisting is it went down but never actually hitting the ground. Suddenly full of fear, he tried to scream. No sound came out and all there was left to do was fall.

The next thing he felt was a hand on the small of his back.

Feeling anchored by it, he summoned the will to open his eyes. Blinking against harsh fluorescent light he managed to croak out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the medical wing,” answered a familiar voice. “Don’t worry Dean, I’m going to take good care of you.”

“Anna?”

“Yes. Just rest okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed. And as he laid there, he noticed that one by one, his faculties seemed to be returning to him. He could see, though the bright lights made him want to keep his eyes shut. He could feel too. The bed beneath him cradled his body. He wasn’t falling anymore - he was perfectly fine. His ears were still ringing a little, but he could hear Anna speaking with the handlers and could make out bits and pieces of what she was saying. She was advising them not to return to him to the party after rejuvenation.

“No,” he murmured, summoning the will to open  his eyes, “No, Anna, I’m going back to finish the party.”

“It’s almost over anyway,” she told him, smoothing her hand over his forehead reassuringly.

“It’s my job,” he said with determination, “and I like it. I’m fine now, I really am. I think I just came so hard that I blacked out. It happens.”

“I know it does sweetie, but you’re body is exhausted. Are you sure you don’t want to just get some rest?”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he said firmly.

Then to prove his point, he sat up. He’d already been cleaned up while he was out. So, after some TLC in the prep room, Dean was able to return to the private party. From across the room, he locked eyes with Benny. Presently the man was flogging someone on a crux decussata and he’d paused. Since he had no memory of leaving this room, Dean had no idea what Benny had seen but he’d obviously been worried. Giving the man a reassuring nod, Dean then turned his attention to everyone else in the room.

The twinks were missing again, and so was Lisa. Most likely they were being cared for in the adjacent prep room. Anna had been right. This party was nearly over. Sadly, he’d already been artfully teased, the dull ache of want in his gut pulled forward by skilled hands and directed to his cock. Now, even though there were more men passed out than awake, Dean needed to get off. There were a few still awake but they were listless and uninterested, most of them already fully satisfied or tripping balls from five worlds away.

Hearing a familiar tune being whistled, Dean turned to Benny and saw that the man was trying to catch his eye. Ambling over, he stopped on the periphery of Benny’s little corner and requested permission to approach with his eyes.

Given a nod, he came forward and Benny quietly whispered, “You in a hard way?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Whatcha ya need, brother?”

“Man, I don’t even know.”

Benny appeared to give the matter some thought, his eyes resting heavily on Dean as he considered things. After a  long moment of deliberation, he said, “I could use a cockwarmer.”

“Sounds great.”

Dean sank to his knees, buzzing because he was horny and Benny had a very enviable dick, but also feeling a connection of friendship and commiseration between them. Benny was cautious as he pulled himself out of his leather costume and gently guided himself to Dean’s lips.  When he felt the first touch of silky skin to his tongue, he instinctively pulled the weight of it into his mouth with the power of suction and latched himself to the man like a Chinese finger cuff. Looking up, Benny’s blue-grey eyes held a warm smile for him even if it didn’t reach his lips. Having a cock in his mouth was quickly returning Dean to his normal self. Sucking contentedly, he kept his ministrations languid rather than trying to get his partner off. Feeling a bit more himself now, Dean began to look around and stole a glance at the man Benny had just taken down from the cross.  He was young. Sweet looking. He didn’t fit in with the group he’d come to party with and Dean wondered idly if he might be an intern. Regardless of his position or rank with these customers, he was one of them. And, since he’d requested it, Benny had put through his paces, testing his limits and challenging him at every turn. The skin on the kids back was bright red and so were his ass cheeks.

“You’ve been a good boy for me Alfie,” praised Benny. “Are you ready for a reward?”

The man whimpered with hope and Benny replied by saying, “I’ve got somthin’ you’re gonna like, Cheri.”

Dean’s eyes were resting on Benny heavily as the man spoke and his friend bent to look him in the eye as he addressed his Sub from a few paces away. “My cockwarmer is also a good boy. He’s got the second finest ass you can buy.” Dean grinned up at his friend when he added, “Mine’s number one, of course.”

“Now, Cheri, if I said you could do anything you wanted with him, what would you choose to do?”

Glancing Dean’s way for a beat, the young man’s eyes returned to their master before he answered, “I’d fuck him, sir.”

Dean’s cock twitched hopefully between his legs, still thick in his cock ring. He nodded immediately when Benny looked to him for consent and hoped he’d get to stay nursing his friends dick as he was taken one last time.

“C’mon and get a piece then,” Benny chuckled. Dean felt relief seep into his bones because he knew from here on out, Benny would take care of him. Extracting himself from between Dean’s lips, Benny led the way towards a large cushion on the floor. It was the only soft place left that didn’t have some corporate fuckwad draped over it. A few hours ago, there had been a steaming orgy on this mat, now it would just be the three of them. Benny stepped onto the cushion first and situated himself in the center of it. When his friend motioned him forward, Dean joined the man, curling up next to him and leaning over to take that wet cock back into his mouth.

Closing his eyes, Dean enjoyed the scent of Benny as he rolled the man’s flaccid cock around in his mouth, letting the weight of it come to rest in the center. It was bliss to know that all he had to do was relax and enjoy keeping his friend’s cock warm and wet.

He let his mind go fuzzy and just enjoyed the sensation as he swallowed around the small and soft version of a big ol’ bear like Ben. When hands touched him, Dean relaxed into it knowing that Benny was orchestrating the entire exchange. Pliant and trusting, he let himself be repositioned, his knees and elbows now under him and his ass guided upwards.

Quivering with desire, his puckered entrance was now on display and Dean groaned on the dick in his mouth when he felt gentle fingers trace his crack and then sink inside him. He was floating on a cloud as he was prepped, eager as he was penetrated, and thrilled as he sank into a sensual roll of hips with the young man behind him. With a steady build of eroticism inside him, Dean opened his eyes for a moment to ask permission with them. Benny’s own eyes were locked on Dean and he nodded his consent immediately. Encouraged by that, Dean began working in earnest, transforming himself from sleepy cockwarmer to active dick sucker. Benny gently patted Dean’s head as he did his thing, and all the while, he and Alfie rocked together alongside the man who was, at least for now, the center of their universe.

With his cock swinging heavily between his legs, Dean grew increasingly exuberant as Alfie fucked into him and was soon giving Benny a damned decent blow job. He bathed the man’s shaft with his tongue, sucked at the tip and teased the slit, then moved down to hum on his balls and lick his taint before repeating the process again only with more urgency.

All the while, Alfie was humping into him from behind, fervent desire growing between them as Dean pushed backwards into the boy and met his thrusts eagerly. The built together, both needing to come but taking their time about getting there. Dean had never been this patient before and wondered to himself if the reason was in Benny’s ability as a Dom, his ability in the role of sub, or simply his body being over-exerted, that made the difference, but he had to admit to really liking it.

Eventually, the euphoria and eroticism built to a climax and as the feeling swelled in him, he rode it out quietly, moaning for how good it felt softly pulse a small puddle of cum down onto the pad beneath his knees. When Alfie came, he pumped a heavy load up into Dean, the culmination of a night spent eagerly waiting to orgasm just once. Then, when he’d finished, he pulled Dean over with him and they laid on their sides together like two spoons in a drawer. Benny moved too, wrapping them up in his strong arms. The three laid there until handlers came to pull Dean from the room. Since Alfie was Benny’s customer, he was able to stay with his charge and provide aftercare. Sadly, Dean had no excuses for staying with them. His work was finished and for him the party was truly at its end.

As they were leaving, they stepped around the carnage of an epic party. Most of the guests were sleeping where they’d fallen  – all obviously satisfied. Dean felt like them. Relaxed and content. He had his friend to thank for that and he knew it. Back in the prep room he revelled in his massage and soaked up the ministrations of his attendant while he was prepared for the sleeping room, fading in and out of consciousness several times. When he was roused to his feet, Dean asked where he was being taken.

“Sleeping quarters,” answered the handler.

“No, I haven’t had my injection yet,” he countered.

“No injection today,” replied the man firmly, “tomorrow is a resting day for you.”

“No it’s not,” he insisted, “I get one more sex day before I rest.”

“Sorry,” answered the man, sounding like he meant it, “but you’ve been on for three days. No one gets more than three days without a rest.”

“I wanna see the nurse,” Dean pressed, trying to control his anger.

“She was just here.”

“Get her back.”

With a sigh, the man allowed him back to the massage table while he stepped out for a moment. Left with only the staffer who had rejuvenated him, and likely because the exchange had seemed like an outburst, Dean felt himself being secured to the table by his cuffs and collar.

“Dean,” said Anna softly when she came to his bedside with her computer, “what’s the matter?”

“I think there’s been a mistake,” he told her calmly, “I’ve been on for two days but they’re telling me it’s been three.”

“Sweetie, it’s been three,” she said imploringly. “I’ve got it right here. Today is Saturday the nineteenth. You had a private party all day today.” Giving him a smile she added, “and half the night.”

“Yeah, and yesterday I did the foot guy and then hit the rec room. The day before that was a resting day.”

“I’m sorry but no. The day before that was Thursday the seventeenth and you began the day with an auction. Your high bidder was a young man in his early thirties. I can’t give you his information, but I can tell you that when prompted about your time with him, you responded that things had gone well and that you’d be willing to entertain him again in the future. It’s all right here in your chart, Dean.”

“Oh, okay,” he relented. It was odd to not recall even a single detail about the encounters he’d had on Thursday, but given the number of encounters he usually had in a day, and the vague description that Anna was allowed to give him, it probably shouldn’t surprise him that there were some fucks that didn’t stand out enough to be remembered.

“Chalk it up to a senior moment,” she teased him. “I get them all the time.”

“I’m not old enough to be having senior moments,” he grumbled.

“Neither am I,” she grinned, obviously trying to get him to smile, “but it happens to the best of us.”

Letting his head fall back on the cushion, Dean closed his eyes. “Thanks Anna.”

“You’re welcome,” she said warmly, leaning in to peck his forehead. “Sleep well, Dean.”

Then, to his attendant, Anna said, “You can unlock him. He’s fine. Just tired.”

She was right too, he could barely keep himself upright as he staggered to the sleeping room. Crawling into his cage, Dean curled onto his side. “You look pretty shot out, man,” said the handler. “You want a comfort object?”

“Sure,” he said. “why not.”

“Any preference?”

“The bear.”

He closed his eyes as he waited and a few moments later found himself being roused from sleep. “You still want this?” asked the handler. Peeling his heavy eyelids open, Dean came face to face with the familiar shape of a small brown teddy bear. It was wearing a t-shirt that proclaimed, ‘I Wuv Hugs’.

“Fuck, man,” he grumbled, “I don’t need that shit.”

“Oh, I thought you wanted it,” said the handler. “Tell ya what. I’ll leave it just in case.” The man then left him and Dean laid there looking at the little stuffed bear for a long time. Strangely enough, a thought crossed his mind that the bear might feel rejected if he didn’t cuddle with it. With a strange desire to soothe and care for it, he reached out and pulled it to his chest.

Hours later, after a deep and restful sleep, Dean drifted slowly into consciousness. Around him was the din of many men, restless in their cages and a suckling sound that reminded him of nursing infants. He stretched and looked around. To his left, as always, was Benny. The man was on all fours with his forehead resting on the bars. Between them Pam had her left hand snaked into his cage and was stroking his hair as he drank from the bottle she held in her right. On his other side, Kevin was just finishing his. He turned a circle on his mattress the way a dog would do and then laid down. With his knees drawn up to his chest, the boy with the big soft eyes looked over at him and said, “Yesterday was awesome, right?”

“What was –

“That party. I wore a skirt, remember.”

“Oh yeah,” nodded Dean as the memory came floating back to him. “Figured they’d blister your hide and send ya to the infirmary.”

“I took a few swats,” he stated proudly, “but mostly they wanted me to dance, suck, and fuck.”

“I don’t even remember seeing you.”

“I saw you. You were doubled up with a couple of dudes. They pinked your ass.”

From behind him, Dean heard Benny’s voice. “You feelin’ alright this mornin’ brother?”

Dean smiled genuinely and answered in the affirmative.

“You fuckin’ rocked those cowboy duds,” Benny added. The man was up now and rocking, his huge cock swinging beneath him like a pendulum. Though Dean felt warm and fuzzy about their romp the previous day, he felt no desire whatsoever to have sex. He was completely and totally satisfied just to lay on this mattress and wonder what he’d do today.

He was one of the last to be taken from his cage, but he felt no impatience. It was Pam who came to retrieve him and Dean blushed when she saw the bear in his cage.

“Rough day yesterday?” she asked as she clipped his collar and cuffs into place.

“Not really. Don’t know why the dude put that in here with me. I didn’t need it.”

“Oh, well I’m glad. You hungry?”

Even as she said the words, Dean suddenly felt a cramp seize his abdomen. Realizing he was ravenous, Dean responded with a resounding yes. She led him down the familiar hall and to the salon. Once he was bathed, he was given a deep tissue massage and, by the time it was finished, a young nursing tech was pushing a cart up to him.

“Good morning Mr. Winchester,” she greeted, verifying the number on her computer screen with the one on his collar.

“Where’s Anna today?”

“Well, she was on till four am,” said the girl. “If I was one to place bets, I’d say she’s home. In bed.”

“Oh, okay,” he mumbled as he looked for her name tag. It said Darla. He held still as she pricked his finger, swabbed it, and then collected a drop into a tiny little tube. Watching as she dropped it onto a testing strip, he looked to her questioningly when the little card turned a pale green rather than blue.

“Oh my,” she said softly, “it looks like you’ve caught a little something.”

“What did I catch?”

“Nothing a shot won't clear up for ya.”

“I thought everyone who came through the door was tested before being allowed inside?”

“Oh they are,” she reassured, “but there’s a small margin of error with tests and some sexually transmitted diseases have an incubation period that can lead to a false negative. But, it’s not to worry about. There’s nothing you can catch that we don’t have the cure for.”

“Alright,” he nodded, watching as she pulled a syringe from the top drawer.

“This one’s not even injected into muscle,” she said conversationally as she swabbed his arm with alcohol. “We put this one into fatty tissue, so you won’t even be sore after.” Even as she said it, she was pinching a bit of fat on the back side of his arm and pushing the needle into it. He barely felt it.

“So that’s that?”

“That’s that,” she beamed. She gave him a reassuring smile as she left. His attendant stepped forward then with a large soft cloth that he knew well.

“I fuckin’ hate this part,” he told her.

“You get at least one injection a day and this is what bothers you most?”

“It’s a damned diaper,” he growled as he laid back on the table.

“No, it’s a containment pad. And if you want to eat breakfast, it’s a necessity.”

“Yeah sweetheart, I get it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Try to squeeze in a nap today,” she told him as she put her hands on his hip and rolled him onto his side, “it will help you feel a little better.”

“I feel fine,” he snapped, “except for the fact that I have to wear a fuckin’ diaper.”

“It’s not that you need a diaper. You’re not a child. Some incontinence is an unfortunate side effect of the juice. It generally only lasts a few hours, a day at the most, but that’s long enough to merit a containment pad. You want to eat, don’t you?”

Fuck. Hell yeah he wanted to eat. “Just do it,” he grumbled, hating the way he had to spread his legs for her to wrap it around him.

When she’d finished, she helped him slide into a pair of elastic trimmed plastic briefs that went over the diaper. Containment pad. Whatever.

When Pam came to retrieve him, he was wearing a soft cotton bathrobe embroidered with his name and a pair of soft slippers. He was Hugh Heffner. But, yeah. In a diaper. She was grinning as she stepped up. “Know what time it is?” she prodded.

“Time to eat,” he said, finally letting himself enjoy the fact that he’d be able to do that today.

“Damn straight,” she said as she took his lead, “and I heard that there’s going to be three kinds of pie at dinner tonight.”

His mood improving now, Dean walked with her to the cafeteria. It was a long walk, probably part of the design layout; best to keep the scent of food far away from those who can’t eat, right? The staff took all their meals here, but the escorts only ate on resting days so staff outnumbered the escorts in the cafeteria nearly three to one.

Dean let Pam carry his tray for him. It had taken him a long time to get comfortable doing that with his handlers, but if he was honest, his body was so weak and tired that not carrying the tray made a huge difference. The food smelled amazing and as he moved into the line circling the breakfast bar, he shoved an apple into his mouth. Sinking his teeth into the crisp, sweet flesh of it was invigorating and he began zealously piling up an ambitious breakfast plate. He slid it onto the tray with two cartons of chocolate milk and then followed Pam to a table.

“You not eating?” he asked when they seated themselves at a table.

“I’m not feeling like breakfast food. But, when you hit the lunch line, I’ll be right there with you.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, digging into his eggs, “I’m gonna get a big fat burger.”

“Me too. With bacon.”

“So much bacon,” Dean added, grabbing a slice and shoving it in his mouth.

“Whatcha gonna do today?”

“Well, I’m gonna charge my phone so I can check it. Maybe hit the library if I have any emails I need to answer. Call my brother and check in. Maybe some TV later… is there a good game on today?”

“Probably. But we both know you’re going to watch Dr. Sexy reruns so you may as well cut the shit.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I forgot who I was talkin’ to for a sec there.”

“You’ve got some catching up to do,” she teased with a smile, “Dr. Sexy got suspended pending investigation.”

“Over that patient that died?”

“That patient he killed.”

“He didn’t kill her,” Dean insisted firmly, “sometimes people just die, Pam.”

“Sure,” she agreed playfully, “but if I die with some doctor’s scalpel in me, I should hope someone would care enough to sue.”

Dean hadn’t even gotten through his eggs when the first cramp hit him. Grimacing, he hunched forward over the table and clenched his eyes shut as he rode it out. Relief only came when he’d filled his diaper.

“It’s okay,” said Pam, already sensing his embarrassment, “it happens to absolutely everyone and there’s no way around it. C’mon, we’ll get you cleaned up.”

He followed her to the adjacent changing room and grumbled, “I can do it myself.”

“No, I’m required to do it.”

“Why the fuck is that a rule? Why can’t I just shower off?”

“Because I need to check your stool.”

“Every damned time?” he barked.

“Yeah sugar, every damned time.”

Hating that it was necessary, but not wanting to piss her off, he climbed up onto the changing table as soon as the door was shut and gritted his teeth.

She took off his underwear and opened his diaper, pulling it from him and setting it aside. Next, she took warm wipes from the dispenser and gently cleaned him up. At first it was gross, of course. But, as the process neared its end, it got better. She was running warm, wet towelettes over him, dragging slowly over his crack, his balls, his taint, and his flaccid cock. It was actually quite sensual. She looked at him like she secretly enjoyed doing it too. Sadly, Dean had to admit that if the soiled diaper wasn’t such an embarrassment, he could probably get over being treated like a toddler and enjoy doing this.

Dean pretended not to notice that while he was washing up his hands, she was checking his stool, probably for blood and foreign objects. After, he waited while she washed up too. Then, as if nothing had happened, they returned the table and he resumed eating breakfast - because even a dirty diaper couldn’t kill an appetite three days in the making.

He had to be changed once more before his body finally remembered how to pack away his food rather than let it slip through him. After that, the day became far more enjoyable. He ate until he was stuffed and then Pam escorted him to his locker. There they parted company, with her removing his cuffs and collar while reminding him to stay in the resting wing until she returned to retrieve him. If he needed anything, he could page her and blah, blah, blah.

“I’ll see you at eight for pie,” she said as she gave him his collar and cuffs. Then she backed away from him smiling.

“It’s a date,” he replied warmly before turning to open his locker.

Digging through his belongings, Dean tossed the restraints to the back and retrieved his phone, his laptop, and his earbuds before heading to the lounge. Upon arrival he greeted a few acquaintances as he settled himself at a table near the big window. It looked like spring had finally arrived and as his eyes roved the courtyard beyond the glass, he promised himself that he’d go outside as soon as he’d checked in with everyone.

Plugging both his devices into the table’s outlet, Dean opened his laptop and logged in. His desktop background displayed a picture of him and his brother with their father. It had been taken shortly after a hunt, one of the last times that they’d all been together. In the photo they were clustered together in front of their father’s vintage Impala, proud smiles on their faces. To an onlooker, this was just a dad and his sons mugging for the camera. A happy family memory.

In reality, however, that picture had been taken in the middle of nowhere Minnesota while on the run from the law. Dean had nearly lost his brother the night before. He’d never forget what it was like to pace back and forth in the parking lot of bar, slowly coming to realize that the little brother he’d always been responsible for had somehow been abducted right out from under his nose.

From there, things had gone from bad to worse. He’d managed to get one over on a local sheriff and find his brother, but to find him in a cage had been horrifying. He’s spent that night, one of the worst of his life, on a slow descent into hell as he pieced together what was going on. This family, even the sweet young girl in their care, were nothing but animals. Killers. Depraved killers nonetheless, ones that abducted young men solely for the folly of releasing them from cages and giving them the false hope of freedom, only to systematically hunt them down. There had been so many damn cars hidden on that backwoods farm… each belonging to someone who had died a nightmarish death. Worse still, there had been several moments that night when Dean had been absolutely certain that he was about to fail his brother. In those moments, he’d done nothing but wonder why they bothered hunting at all.

In the abstract it all made sense. There were people out there who were evil. Truly evil. Monsters, if you will. Like the man who took his daughter’s bastard child and locked her away in the basement, left her to feed on scraps and befriend rats. After the father and daughter had died, a new family moving into the home had thought it to be haunted. They couldn’t have been more wrong. The unknown feral child was simply reeking havoc. They’d solved that case at great personal peril, and with considerable damage to their car which they’d had no money to fix. As usual, their dad wasn’t around for the action, only joining the brothers later after his own case had been solved. In fact, the brothers had been separated from their father far more than they’d been together those last few years, the three often splitting up to cover more ground now that Dean and Sam were grown.

But, on that day in Minnesota when they’d brought an end to the reign of terror known as the Bender family, they’d reunited with their dad. They’d taken this photo together and John Winchester had seemed so proud of his boys. But, no good deed goes unpunished. And for their troubles, the only reward they received was a life as fugitives. A life of pretending that credit card fraud and pool hustling were justifiable as income when serving the greater good; a life spent acting heroically and being treated like dirt. It just didn’t seem fair.

For a while, Dean had thought he could live a life of hunting down people like the Benders if only he could get his baby brother out of that life. But the moment Sammy left, Dean turned his eyes to his own exit. As it turned out, leaving had been far easier than he’d ever thought it could be.

In the end, he didn’t have to give his dad a speech and cut ties like Sammy had done. All he had to do was let John head off on his next case and then be very vague about his own cases when they actually spoke. Occasional meet ups were easy enough to avoid simply by saying things like, “Wisconsin? Wow, dad, sorry. I’m clear over in Virginia. Yeah, I’m onto somethin’ but I don’t wanna jinx it by talkin’ about the details. I’ll check in with ya next week.”

Looking at the faces of his brother and father on the monitor now, their smiles covered by the icons of saved files, Dean couldn’t help but be surprised that he’d managed to carry on like that over two years now. The few times he’d been required to take time off from the brothel, he’d taken roadtrips to meet his dad and catch up. He pretended to be between cases and he kept the stories of his conquests vague. So far, that had been working, and when something isn’t broken, you don’t fix it.

Since the men at the brothel worked three days on and two days off, Dean could call on his days off and his communication naturally fits the exact pattern of contact that hunters were used to… out of touch for a few days and then suddenly available again.  

There were times when Dean thinks that Sam might have been wise to him. Honestly, that was fine. Dean didn’t give a shit if his brother knew he’d quit hunting. He just didn’t want to have to admit what he’d really been doing with his life. It was one thing to accept that sex was all he’d ever really been good at and embrace it. It was entirely different to come out and admit that he’d embroiled himself in the world’s oldest profession or, worse yet, that he fucking loved it.

As he waited for his phone to charge, Dean opened up a tab online and began catching up on changes to the state of the world since his last day off. It would seem that there were still people protesting the legislation that allowed for certain drugs to be purchased without a prescription and there were still a bunch of lawsuits challenging the validity of religious groups being able to judge and sentence their own parishioners in lieu of using the public court system. In celebrity news, a high profile couple had come out as being polyamorous and admitted that their maid was actually their lover, sworn, pledged, and bound for life. The same day that announcement had been made, another celebrity couple had come out as being poly as well. On the heels of these revelations, some media outlets were supportive of ‘alternative lifestyles’ while others decried it as the end of the sanctity of binding laws.

“Whatcha readin?” asked someone from over his shoulder. Startled, Dean looked up to see Lisa standing over him. He was surprised to see her because the ladies worked a different rotation than the men and their days off hadn’t lined up in quite some time.

“Oh nothing,” he yawned, “just catchin’ up on the news.”

“Oh yeah,” she said absently as she bent to look at his screen, “I heard that a few poly couples had come out.”

“Yeah, some pretty heavy hitters,” he agreed. “Of course the wingnuts are sayin’ it’s the end of all holiness for bound couples.”

“That’s so stupid she groaned. They said the same thing when same sex couples were trying to secure binding rights too, but that didn’t ruin anything. The only consequence of that was an increase in tax revenue on binding licensure and a boon for the department store gift registries.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking at her and wondering what else they could possibly have to talk about.

“How’ve you been?” he tried.

“Pretty good, I guess. I took some time off. Met somebody and I’m thinking about throwing in the towel.”

“You gonna trade all this for a white picket fence?”

“That’s always been the plan,” she reminded him. “You know… enjoy the sex while I’m young… have my fun… and save up a boatload of money while I’m at it.”

“Then take your loot and move to the suburbs with some guy that looks like he was carved out of cream cheese?”

“Yep. That sums it up,” she grinned. “It looks nice outside. You up for a walk?”

“Maybe later. I’m gonna read a bit more and make some phone calls.”

“Alright,” she smiled, turning to leave, “If I miss you this afternoon, we can sit together at dinner and catch up a little.”

 _I thought we just did that_ he thought as she left.

Returning his attention to the news, he started looking for cases, just the way he would’ve if he’d still been hunting. With a few notes compiled, he was ready to call his father in just under an hour.

He got his dad’s voicemail, which wasn’t unusual, so he left a message offering no details other than that he was between gigs and wondered if they were close enough to one another to meet up and grab a beer. If he received a call back today, and that was a pretty big ‘if’, he’d simply pretend to be several states away. They’d chat for a few minutes and then say their goodbyes.

More than their father, it was his brother that Dean really hoped to speak with. Luckily, Sam was far more accessible by phone than John.

“Heya Sammy, whatcha doin?”

“I’m on my way to a lunch meeting so I only have a few minutes.”

“Oh yeah, me too.”

“You have a lunch meeting?” Sam asked him, easily taking the bait.

“Yeah, I’m at a truck stop outside Tulsa and there’s a waitress that needs my help getting her panties off.”

Dean smiled when his brother laughed out loud. Then, he went rigid when Sam added, “You could try a waiter from time to time, you know. Shake things up a bit.”

Recovering quickly, Dean said, “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, lawyer boy. Have a good lunch and don’t choke on a chicken bone.”

“That was one time," retorted Sam indignantly, "and it wasn't a chicken bone. I've never actually choked on a bone, Dean, have you?"

“Dude. Enough already,” he barked. Then, cutting this off before it could get out of hand, he added, “If ya hear from Dad, tell him I checked in, okay?”

“Okay Dean, call again soon.”

“Will do,” he relented, feeling a bit sad to be saying goodbye so soon. After hanging up he sat for a while and wondered about these little jokes that Sammy had been making more and more lately. Was it just innocent brotherly teasing?  Or was his brother trying to hint that he knew about Dean’s penchant for men and was cool with it?

Snapping the lid of his laptop shut, Dean pushed back from the table. Grabbing his phone as he left, he stopped at his locker to put away his computer and grabbed his jacket before heading outside. It had been awhile since he’d even set foot outside. Doing so now was invigorating. But, he felt a little silly strolling the grounds with a bathrobe sticking out from under his leather jacket and slippers on his feet rather than shoes. Others around him were similarly dressed and he chuckled to himself as his mind compared his current surroundings to the grounds of a nineteen-sixties era mental hospital. Honestly, the more he thought about the similarities, the more chilling the comparison became. Life here was very controlled; regimented. Documented… much like a hospital or care facility would be. Also, he was almost constantly medicated or chemically altered in one way or another - he took pills and received shots daily and gave both blood and urine samples frequently.  Everyone ate and drank only when allowed and all the food supplied was relatively healthy. He was escorted nearly everywhere by staff. He had to fill out paperwork before anyone could visit and before he could leave the grounds. Yeah, this place was kind of trippy when he thought about it.

Last time he’d been outside had been almost two weeks ago. On his last resting cycle it had rained from sun up to sun down both days. The time before that, he’d been kicking ass and taking names in a poker tournament and never bothered. He’d never even seen a stitch of daylight over those two days. He just ate, drank, and played cards with his friends for thirty six of his forty eight hours off.  Healthy for him? Not so much. Hell of a good time though.

The weather was so pleasant today that he briefly considered enduring the hassle of signing himself out so he could go for a drive. But, in the end, he just wandered the gardens for a bit and spent some time thinking. He willfully pushed down all the thoughts about his father, his fantasies in that arena, and the ease of daddy kink for him. It was just a heavier subject matter than he cared to delve into on an afternoon like this, he wasn’t avoiding. Really, he wasn’t. Keeping his thoughts mostly to his life in this place, Dean had to acknowledge that his life these days was unconventional. But, no matter how he tried to entertain the possibility that employment here wasn’t right for him, he just couldn’t get behind the idea of it. At the end of the day - Dean Winchester loved to fuck. It felt amazing and he was damned good at it. He loved his job. And, for all its oddities, this place catered to his every need. That was undeniable. There was a sense of belonging that he loved, an honesty between him and the other workers that he’d never witnessed on the outside and a lack of judgement that he embraced and enjoyed beyond measure.

Soon enough, all the thinking had lulled him into a drowsy state and he wound up heading to the quiet area to rest. Dropping his jacket over the foot of an empty bed, he pulled the privacy curtain around it and kicked off his slippers. Climbing in under the covers, he grabbed the remote and turned on the overhead television projection system. Pulling headphones on, he flicked channels until he found something mildly entertaining. Then, before he’d even made it to the first block of commercials, he sank into a deep sleep.

By the time he woke again, the hour was late enough to get supper. Kicking off the covers, Dean pushed his feet back into slippers, smoothed his rumbled robe, and headed to get food. Pam found him there and joined, not even looking sorry when she went back for a third helping of her favorite pie. So far, she was the only one who could match his appetite among the ladies on staff. While lingering over their food, the two of them argued playfully over whose favorite band was more legendary and talked of which concerts they’d have most wanted to have attended if they’d been alive at the time. Granted, it was a strange concept… plotting out which influential shows they would’ve gone to had they been born decades sooner than they really had, but that didn’t diminish their fun at all.

When they’d eaten their fill, Pam asked if he wanted to sleep in his cage or in the quiet area. Wanting to remain out of his collar and cuffs, which were required unless he was in the resting wing, Dean told her that he’d prefer to stay there. It was still pretty early when he disrobed and slid and into one of the beds unoccupied beds, but he fell asleep quite quickly and didn’t wake until his cell phones ring tone blared around eleven the next morning.

Sitting up, he glanced at the strange number. It was probably his father. Gathering his wits about him, Dean answered.

“Hey son, good to know you’re alive and kickin’. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah sorry,” he placated, trying to remember the notes he’d made yesterday. “I’ve been in Indiana.”

“You look into all those disappearances and UFO sightings?”

“Yeah but it dried up as soon as I got there. Couldn’t catch a trail to save my life.”

“A buddy of mine was up there, he took care of it. Surprised you two didn’t cross paths.”

“Yeah, weird.”

“You still in Indiana?”

“Um, dad,” he hedged, wanting to cut this off before he wound up accidently making a mistake that could blow his cover, “I’m kinda in the middle of something right now.”

“Oh yeah,” chuckled John, “what’s her name.”

“I didn’t catch it,” he joked, falling into their old style of banter, “but I’ll call ya soon okay?”

“Alright son, it was good to hear from ya.”

“Bye dad.”

Well, that was it… another week of getting away with this huge-ass lie he was living. “Good on me,” he grinned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pulling on his robe. Already gnawing at him hungrily, Dean’s belly was his primary motivator at the moment. He headed to the cafeteria, falling in with some friends along the way and staying with them for the afternoon meal. Energized by yesterday’s food and plentiful rest, Dean felt stronger. He carried his own tray and he filled it with everything that looked good. He even had a few drinks as he exchanged stories of recent exploits with the guys, laughing and bragging and joking around.

Even after so much time in this place, Dean was still impressed with the offerings in the cafeteria. Others complained about it from time to time, but it was all considerably better than the diet he’d been raised on – a mish-mash of high sodium foods that were microwaved in mini marts or slung onto a plate from the griddle of a greasy spoon.

Glad to be feeling rested, he opted to skip the hassle of signing out when his friends left the premises and resigned himself to quiet afternoon in the common room. He played cards for a while, pulled out his laptop to check headlines again and play a few free internet games, and then, pondering the world that lay on the other side of the glass and his relation to it, he stared out the window for a bit.

He hadn’t even realized that he’d nodded off until someone dropped something across the room. Startled by the sound, he woke and looked around. Realizing that he’d slept for a bit, Dean stretched his arms and legs and then set his sights on dinner. After a leisurely meal, he made a brief stop at his locker to exchange his phone for his collar and cuffs. Then, ready to call it a day, Dean then headed down to check in at the nurse’s station.

“My name’s Dean Winchester and I’m back on tomorrow,” he told the receptionist.

“Right this way,” she said politely, leading him to nearby chair. Much like a dentist’s chair, it was already set to a reclined position and he relaxed into it as she took his vitals, updated his chart, pricked his finger and dropped a blood sample onto a testing card. “Looks like you’re good to go,” she told him. “Just relax here and I’ll call a handler to retrieve you.”

It didn’t take long for Meg to come strutting over. “He’s all set,” said the nurse.

“Well, look who’s all ready to get back to work. Where’s your collar?”

Irritated already, Dean handed the gear over to her and tried to hold his temper as she buckled him into it. He walked along behind her and when they reached the salon on the working side of the building, she left him in the care of one of the few male stylists.

“Dean, is it?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” he answered, easing himself down onto the table.

“You’re back on tomorrow, right?”

“Yep.”

“So, just a massage then, unless there’s something else you need?”

“Nope. Massage sounds great.”

Unlike the massages he received during his ‘work’ days, this one was solely for its relaxation and health benefits. Because of that, it was focused on his deep tissues, and working out any areas of tightness. And it didn’t end with his genitals being teased to life.

Rather, it ended with a visit from Anna.

“Good evening, Dean. Did you enjoy your time off?”

“Sure did.”

“Did you go anywhere special?”

“Nope just rested up a little.”

“Good for you,” she said warmly as she prepared his injection.

“Oh yeah,” he sighed as she slipped the needle into his vein, “good for me.”

By the time she left, he was already feeling it. There was a swell of lust rolling over him. It was powerful, like a heavy wave crashing over onto the shore and rolling uphill as it surged up onto the sand. He looked over at his masseur and wished he could ask for a happy ending to his massage. Then, as Meg led him towards the sleeping room, he had a moment where he actually considered fucking her… just bending her over right there in the hall, tugging down those cotton pants and shoving himself into her. _Damn_ , he thought, _whatever’s in these shots is fuckin’ strong._

Crawling into his cage, Dean glanced over at the empty cages on each side of him. Both Benny and Kevin were still working and likely would be until long after he’d gone to sleep. Lurid thoughts took over his brain as he waited to slip under. He pictured Kev in his little skirt, a cock cage on his tiny little pecker and his hole wet and leaking as Dean bent him over. Hard already, Dean tried to slow his breathing and let sleep take him but being well-rested did have some disadvantages. Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Dean pictured himself walking down a very public street and being tackled to the ground by Benny and five of his friends. Then, he pressed his own fingers to his dry and overheated hole as he imagined being publicly fucked by each of them in turn. _Man, I could use a drink._

Pearly pre-cum dribbled from his engorged cock and he whined a little as he sought relief in the only acceptable way – pushing his own fingers into his dry hole. Doing so manifested enough of a stinging sensation to cut through the impossible build of want in him.

With his head a bit clearer, he called out to whichever attendant might be nearby. “Anyone there?” he tried hopefully.

“I’m here, what do you need?” responded an approaching voice that didn’t belong to Meg.

Grateful for that at least, Dean took a deep breath and quietly said, “I need a cock cage. And something to help me sleep.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiella is amazing. I don't know how she shovels through so much porn and still manages to keep her editor hat on. What a woman, right?

                                                                                              

 

Dean was drifting in darkness. Traces of sound floated around him but they were distorted, almost as though he was hearing them from underwater. Gradually the indiscernible noises began to organize themselves into familiar sounds. Footsteps, voices, the clunk and clatter of carts being moved around. Cages opening and closing.

Orientating himself based on those sounds, Dean knew that he was in the sleeping room. As he was realizing that, the cloudy darkness he’d been floating in began to fade, first to grey and then to a brilliant white. It grew stronger and stronger until he could hardly tolerate it anymore. Blinking against it, his eyes fluttered open and that’s when he realized the problem. He was laying on his back and facing up towards the fluorescent lights overhead. Simply rolling his head to the side solved his problem and Dean’s eyelids drifted comfortably shut again.

Cataloging the heaviness in his limbs and the cloudiness of his mind, Dean realized this wasn’t a normal waking - he’d been drugged and was now regaining consciousness. He felt no panic at the realization because this was commonplace for him now. He was often drugged these days and usually at his own request.

All his limbs were heavy, though, so he began to stretch. As he went about working the kinks out of his muscles and joints, Dean’s mind was coming online and beginning to pick up speed. The sucking sounds that reached his ears gave him an idea of the approximate time, and a soft buzzing sensation low in his gut was beginning to grow. He’d had an injection last night, but had been immune to its gluttonous, aphrodisiac effects while he’d been knocked out. But, now that he was coming out of sedation, the animalistic urges that it amplified in him were once again rising to the surface.

Realizing that today was a working day, a sex day, Dean began to grow excited and let himself enjoy the swelling carnal hunger as it crept on him. When he heard Benny’s voice, he decided it was time to sit up. Still groggy, he lifted his head and looked around the room. Then, he continued stretching from a seated position.

He’d probably slept through the night without ever even moving, which was often a byproduct of sedative-induced sleep. Next to him, Benny was up on all fours and lazily rocking forward and back as he spoke with Pam. Dean’s eyes flicked down to watch as the man’s big, heavy dick dragged up and down his mattress with the motion of his body. When he’d first come around, Dean’s dick had been small and soft in its cage, but had quickly begun to plump up. Now that he’d checked out Benny’s package, blood was flooding to his groin and he couldn’t stop it either, he just had to accept the pain that accompanied his cock swelling beyond the confines of his its metal cage.

Suddenly, his top priority was getting the cursed thing off. His eyes darted around the room searching for a handler. For Dean, the look and feel of a cage around his junk could be a bit scintillating at times. Occasionally, he’d even fantasize about being fucked while wearing one… or fucking someone who was wearing one. That meant that his mind and body were kind of at war with themselves at this moment… the idea of having his pleasure locked down being sensual to him caused him to stay plump enough for it to hurt, and the pain caused him to wish he could shrink. It was frustrating to say the least.

The closest handler seemed to be Pam, who was still chatting with Benny as she fished his cuffs and collar out from the compartment under his cage. Dean looked past his friend and tried to use imploring eyes to catch her attention so he wouldn’t have to interrupt their discussion.

When she saw him, she gave a nod of understanding. Knowing she’d take care of him, Dean laid back down to wait. But time seemed to slow down after that, and minutes felt like hours as he waited for someone to come and let him out of his cages… both the big one he that he’d slept in and the small one locked to his ballsack.

Fueled by his carnal appetite, Dean’s mind was now filling with fantasies. Dirty and depraved things that he either wanted to do, or had already done and wanted to do again were flashing in his head like a filthy little flip book. Want was bearing down on him like a freight train and his body was quickly progressing from a state of ‘mildly turned on’ to a more urgent state of ‘bend me over now’.

Fuck. His dick was filling again. Pain.

It was a searing twinge to his cock that made him think of a snake bite. Dean’s most basic instincts sent his hands down to cup his crotch and protect it. The action didn’t prevent or ease the discomfort, but he instinctively kept his hands down there anyway. His cock was deflating a bit now, but pre-cum was leaking from his tip. It made his little metal cage wet and pooled sticky in his palm.

Unable to manage much else, Dean simply laid there in the fetal position with his hands over his dick and tried to breathe steadily as he waited for assistance. He hadn’t looked over at Kevin yet, but the odds were in favor of the young man being in a similar posture right now.

The kid had zero patience or ability to control his exuberant young lust, so his cock was under lock and key almost every night. Dean, however, had long ago decided that he’d rather wake up hard and police himself than wake up caged and need no self-restraint.

Craning his neck to look over at Pam, he saw that she was watching him. “I’ve got someone coming for you,” she called out to him. “Just hang in there.”

Dean nodded gratefully and let his eyes fall shut again as he waited for assistance. A moment later, the sound of approaching footsteps was music to his ears. When they paused near his head, Dean opened his eyes to see who had arrived.

“Oh, it’s you again,” he groaned.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day,” said Becky firmly, passing a bottle through the bars as she spoke. “Maybe we can start over?”

It was surprising how much it helped just to have the distraction of a person speaking to him. He was already feeling better - more like himself. Rolling onto his back and scooting towards the bottle, he gave her a flirtatious smile and said, “Maybe we don’t need to. I mean, if you wanna make a play for my perky nipples, maybe I should just let ya.”

She fixed a cold stare upon him as he opened his mouth to get the bottle between his lips.

“Really?” he chuckled, talking around the rubber nipple in his mouth. “You gonna be a prude now?”

“I’m not a prude,” she answered, holding the bottle for him but making no attempt to reach into his cage with her free hand. “I’m not a whore either.”

Dean was so horny at this moment that even sucking on a bottle felt sensual to him. He couldn’t wait to get a dick in his mouth. “I’m a whore,” he mumbled between swallows, “and I ain’t afraid to say so.”

The young blonde appeared a bit uncomfortable at hearing his admission. To her, the word probably carried a stigma. Admittedly, it did for most people. It must for Dean as well, otherwise he wouldn’t get off on hearing himself called one.

But logically, it seemed like the label of ‘whore’ would probably be less offensive to people if they were more cognizant of how it was being used; if they made a distinction between using it to describe what a person is, and what they do for a living.

Regardless, the word applied to Dean either way. Acknowledging that he’s a sexual creature who both enjoys copious amounts of sex, and also makes his living selling it, has been very freeing for him. After all, if someone loves to paint, they can proclaim themselves to be an artist and paint all day, every day. If they can make enough money as an artist to support themselves, then they’re an artist. The same goes for someone who loves to cook. They can get a job as a chef or open a restaurant and get paid to do exactly what they love all day long. Why should someone with a penchant for sex be treated differently? If he’s skilled enough to make a damned good living with his cock, why be ashamed of it?

Becky was looking at him through the bars as if he were a puzzle she wanted to try and put together. “Sweetheart,” he said, momentarily pulling off his bottle, “you gonna stare at me? Or you gonna touch me?”

Snapping to attention, she hesitated only once before shoving her hand between the bars and going straight for his left nipple. As she brushed the pad of her finger over it, she looked around the room to be sure no one was watching. Dean resumed sucking and stretched languidly as she began rolling his pebbled nub between her fingers.

He hummed contendly as he drank, enjoying the feel of the thick liquid slithering its way through his body. A bit of nipple play while it happened was far more enjoyable than simply having his cheek stroked. But not many handlers were willing to risk their job just to cop a feel. Becky, he decided, had her good points.

With her attention focused on his body and not her job, the blonde didn’t even seem to notice that the bottle was now empty. But, anxious to have his dick unlocked, Dean didn’t have the patience for waiting. He cleared his throat pointedly, which seemed to catch her attention. He forced himself to be patient while she dug out his collar and cuffs, but he hissed aloud as his arousal spiked again and caused his dick to start filling once more.

When she pushed his collar between the bars, he was already up on hands and knees waiting. Holding still so she could latch it around his neck, Dean watched as Becky released the lock and he sprang out of the cage as soon as the door swung open.

“Does it bother you to sleep in a cage?” she asked him as they began walking.

“It did at first,” he answered. “But I got used to it after a while. It’s for my own protection.”

“I’d be claustrophobic.”

“You’d get used to it.”

As they exited the warmth of the sleeping room and walked out into the brightly lit hall, Dean could feel the first traces of slick forming. His dick, still trapped, twitched eagerly for what this day would bring, and he gritted his teeth at the accompanying pinch. Dean was deposited at Cassie’s station and she winced when she glanced down and caught sight of his cock cage.

“Oh sweetie,” she sighed empathetically, “let’s get that off.”

The process was painful for him because the bump and bumble of her fingers was enticing enough to keep keep him perpetually swelling. At this point, he was so erotically charged that the pain was just egging him on. When the lock sprung, she grimaced as she tried to gently lift it away from his chubby pecker, the reddened flesh of which was swelling out from from between the little metal bars that encased his shaft. It felt like tiny teeth sinking into his delicate genital tissue.

Dean couldn’t hold back a long and indulgent groan as his proud cock was finally released from the weight of it. He stared down and watched with Cassie as it grew tall and proud before their eyes. The sensation of his dick hardening seemed to send a signal to his asshole that it was time for sex. Moisture had been gathering between his cheeks and now he could another bead of it slipping out of him. It crept up along his crack and tickled a little.

Bending down, Cassie gave his left calf a tap. Responding to her silent request, Dean adjusted his stance so that his bare feet were now shoulder width apart and framing the little drain on the floor.

She ducked around behind him and he relaxed into the touch when she laid her hand on his buttox. “You’re going to feel some pressure,” she cautioned him, as if he didn’t know the drill by now. Making it as easy as possible for her, he leaned forward a bit and reached back to hold his cheeks apart.

Hungry for anything to be pushing past his eager rim, Dean enjoyed having her lubed finger press in. Soon she was easing in a tube. A couple days without any anal had left him tight and the modest enema tube now felt like a garden hose pushing in.

Fuck yeah. It was gonna be a damned good day.

Still hard as a rock, he waited for the gush of warm water that would soon flood up into his intestines, swirl around, and then spill back out. He didn’t look down as it happened. Instead, he glanced around the salon at other stylists as they washed and waxed and trimmed and plucked to make every man as sexy as he could be.

Meanwhile, at his feet, Cassie was using the hand held shower head to rinse him off. Dean let himself enjoy the pampering as she then lathered him up from neck to ankles and rinsed him again.

Once his body was fresh and clean, Dean had his hair washed, his face shaved, and his eyebrows plucked. He was waxed and then enjoyed the sensual massage that worked oil into his skin to leave it practically glowing.

Last, but certainly not least, he turned over on the table and watched Cassie’s pretty face as she took his manhood into her palms and stroked him to full attention. He couldn’t help but smile as a cock ring was tugged into place. He loved the feel of it tightening around him - insuring that he could play all day and never go soft.

Once the ring was in place, Cassie added a few drops of oil to her palm and gave him a final preparatory tease. When he’d been deemed ready, Dean got to his feet. Nervous energy was thrumming through his body as he turned his attention to what would come next. The Gallery.

“I think you’re all set,” Cassie said as she threaded a lead rope through his collar.

Checking himself out in the full length mirror at her station, he caught her eye in the reflection and said, “Honey, you sure do good work.”

“A sexy man like you makes my job easy,” she replied with a smile.

Shooting her a wink as he stepped away, Dean followed along behind the handler. Back in the bright hallway, he worked to control his breathing as he was led towards the room where he’d be auctioned off. His heart was hammering excitedly against his ribcage as he prepared to enter. He was beyond ready. When shoved through the door, Dean flashed his best smile and strode out in front of the crowd.

With his proud cock leading the way, Dean came to stand front and center. The auctioneer announced him and as approving applause rose from the crowd, Dean did a couple of turns and stretches to show off his body. Then, he moved closer to the spectators so he could look them over and choose one to be his hopeful.

Scanning the bodies who sat before him in stadium style seating, Dean’s roving gaze faltered when it spied a familiar figure sitting in the front row. The trench coat was what had caught his eye. It was unmistakable. Old and out of style and a bit too big for the man who wore it.

Curious, Dean took a moment to check the guy out as bids for him began pouring in. Last time he’d seen this man, he’d been sitting near the back. But now that he was up front, Dean was getting a better look.

The blue eyes he remembered were indeed striking, brilliant in color and clarity. The man’s gaze locked on him and he lifted his chin confidently, almost as if daring Dean to look to away. A strong jawline was emphasized by the dark shadow where a beard had been shaved, but not this morning. Balancing out the man’s jawline were dramatic sweeping eyebrows. His hair was parted on the side and combed over, but in the front, gel had been pulled through his locks to keep them pointing up and away from his face rather than falling over his forehead. Yeah. The guy was sexy as fuck.

Dean wanted him.

Stepping up to the chest-high glass partition that separated him from the audience, Dean rested his arms on it casually and shifted his weight to one leg. Then, with his eyes still on the trenchcoated man, he rocked his resting hip forward. The motion did what it was meant to do. It pushed his rock hard cock forward to thump against the glass.

The cool glass felt amazing against his heated crown and he locked his body in that position as he watched the man raise his hand to start bidding. His dick was resting against the glass now, and Dean didn’t have to look down to know that a tiny snail trail of opaque pre-cum was smeared obscenely on the clear panel.

No matter how much he wanted to, Dean didn’t turn his head to watch the numbers on the screen flash as his price increased. Instead, he kept his attention focused on the one he wanted to fuck. If the man had appeared to waiver, Dean would’ve started rolling his hips so that his cock head would smear around on the glass in a tantalizing way. That kind of display was capable of bringing an indecisive bidder back into the game. There were lots of little tricks like that at Dean’s disposal, depending on what kind of person he was gunning for. For some, turning his back to the crowd and teasingly tracing a finger over his own crack was what did it. For others, it was him dropping to down on all fours. If he was already down there, bending further to expose his eager, juicy entrance was as good as yelling out, “come take what’s yours”. Sometimes the trick was nothing more than a subservient pose, a silent offer to be dominated. Depending on who he was after, Dean had an arsenal of temptations to offer.

But this guy, the one who now peered down at him from beneath an arched eyebrow, this guy didn’t want Dean to submit. He wanted Dean to be belligerent. Untameable. A challenge.

Because of that, Dean didn’t lower himself before the man. He stood tall and proud, displaying his enviable cock the way a peacock displays its plumage. He was prepared to do more if the man dropped out of bidding, but he didn’t have to. Blue eyes never even blinked. He bid over and over again as he focused intently on Dean.

The crowd began cheering emphatically as the amount of the bid became noteworthy. Still, he didn’t turn to look at the number. He just stared into those ocean-blue eyes and let himself get lost. If the man won him, Dean would submit to his every whim, he was sure of it. Already, he wanted to. But, he wouldn’t make it easy on the guy. What fun would that be?

It was strange, he thought, the difference in this man from the first time he’d seen him. Before, the guy had hidden himself near the back, squirmed nervously when Dean had made eye contact, and had appeared ready to bolt for the door at any moment. Dean could hardly reconcile that skittish first-timer with the bold and confident man he was looking at now. _What a difference a few days make_ , he thought.

When the bidding was finished, Dean belonged to the trenchcoated man. Still, he didn’t turn to see his number. He let his eyes linger on the proud winner; couldn’t wait to get behind a closed door with him.

The head of his cock was now glazed with pre-cum where it rested on the glass barrier, and behind him, his eager entrance was sopping wet. Extra tight back there after a few days rest, Dean was thrilled to have such a delectable partner be the one designated to violate it.

When he finally pushed away from the glass and took a step back, his ass cheeks slipped up and down independently of one another with each step he took because his crack was sloppy with excess lube. It was literally dribbling down the back of his thigh as he walked over to meet the approaching handler. He’d grown so excited by the man who’d won him that he’d produced enough of his own natural juices to last all day.

 _Who’s got the best job ever?_ Dean chuckled to himself.

Finally letting his eyes go to the screen and check the winning bid amount, he couldn’t stop a wide grin from spreading over his face. To the handler he said, “I keep setting records, just to come back and break ‘em.”

“Yeah, yeah,” replied the man with an eye roll, “You’re a god among men.”

The guy had a thick British accent so Dean figured there was a fair to good chance he’d wind up being a pompous asshole. “Last I checked, people give God ten percent,” Dean shot back. “Here they give me the whole paycheck.”

“You win mate,” laughed the handler as they headed for the exit. The audience was still cheering for him, so before stepping through the doorway, Dean turned back to give them a wink and a wave.

Out in the hall he looked over at the handsome man holding his lead and asked, “You new?”

“No, I’m just new to you.”

“How’s that work?”

“I transferred over from the ladies side.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“It was too hard to keep my hands to myself,” the man admitted with a laugh.

“What’s your name?”

“Mick, he answered, “Mick Davies.”

“Well Mick, what do ya think of the men’s side so far?”

With a labored sigh he answered by saying, “I miss the view already.”

They were approaching the door allocated to Dean for the next ninety minutes and as they came to a stop, he grinned at Mick and said, “I guess it’s lucky you’re not bi. You’d have to load boxes in a warehouse to keep a job.”

Laughing good naturedly at the joke, Mick slid his keycard into the reader. With a pronounced clunk, the door latch released and Mick swung it open for them. Together they walked across the modest space to the back where Dean stood and waited as his cuffs and collar were locked into the fixture on the wall.

He was anxious for his first and best fuck of the day, and to appease his exuberant cock, Dean pressed it against the coolness of the wall. His tethering didn’t allow much range of motion, but Dean had gotten used to it. He’d waited like this every time - anchored to the wall with his back to the door.

What degree of freedom he’d be allowed while in this room would be entirely up to the person who’d won the auction. For the allotted time frame, they can do just about anything they want with him. There are rules, of course. Limits. But there really isn’t much that’s completely barred.

A flash of the blue-eyed man crossed his mind just then and Dean’s entire body tensed with anticipation as he contemplated all the dirty things the man might want to do with him. In response to the barrage of salacious images that flooded his mind, Dean felt his asshole twitch excitedly. Another trickle of viscous slick oozed out around his pucker as it happened. Feeling himself get wet with anticipation was erotic in and of itself, and the sensation sent a swell of lust up through his cock too.

Glancing down, Dean saw pearlescent liquid bead up on his crown too, a fat drop rolling over the side and dribbling to the floor at his feet. Behind him, he could feel Mick turning to go. “Hey man,” he said, looking over his shoulder, “couldja wipe me up before ya go?”

Mick paused mid-step and looked back over his shoulder. “Wipe you?” he repeated questioningly.

“Yeah, man,” he chuckled, “see that towel hangin’ from your belt?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it ain't for the sweat of your brow.”

“Right, right,” he said, not meeting Dean’s eye anymore. “Sorry. Since I was transferred, I didn’t get the same training that a brand new handler would get. I mean, they mentioned doing this, but I completely forgot.”  

Paused a few feet behind Dean with his hand on the towel, Mick looked uncertain.

“Hey man, I don’t like it anymore than you do,” he sighed. Then he turned back to face the wall and adjusted his stance. Since this was Micks first time performing the task, he fumbled a bit and it took several passes to wipe away all the excess slick.

Generally, the first few hours on juice were the wettest and then as the day went on, his body’s production of lube would slowly taper off. He’d still be plenty wet for his last clients of the day, but the obscene leaking was normally over long before then. Most nights, by the time he curled up in his cage, he wasn’t even all that wet anymore. Just… pleasantly moist.

But, Dean’s level of sexual excitement definitely played a role in how much lube his body pumped out. The hornier he felt, the more his body produced. That’s why Dean was even wetter than usual right now. Not only was the juice at its most potent, but Dean was so worked up over the man who’d won him that his body was kicking into overdrive.

When the new guy had made his exit, Dean’s thoughts immediately turned to the gorgeous man he was about to entertain. To say that he was anxious to get it on with the man was an understatement and it wasn’t just because the guy was smokin’ hot. The man was confident and bold, personality traits that Dean had always responded to. And, this guy had another quality that Dean was drawn to that was far more elusive. He had playfulness.

The way they’d interacted in the gallery had been incredible. Both were playing a game, and each knew the other was a worthy adversary, and they were both enticed by it. Dean couldn’t wait to play more.

When the door finally opened he thought, _Game on_.

Making a conscious effort not to turn and look at his customer, Dean was picking up right where they’d left off at the auction. Feigning nonchalance with his posture, Dean waited for the man to make a move.

Their game would be a battle of wills, he was sure of it, and playing it to completion would probably take up most of their allotted time. But, in the end, Dean would let the man win. And then, he’d pretend to accept whatever retribution the winner chose to dole out to him. Yeah, he’d pretend to tolerate what was done to him, but secretly, he’d be reveling in it.

“Hello, Dean,” greeted the winning bidder from behind him.

The low timbre of the man’s voice surprised him. It was dark, authoritarian, and it sent a shiver of excitement skittering up his spine even as a new pulse of wetness leaked from his eager hole. Raising his chin high, Dean slowly turned his head to silently stare the man down.

“My name is Castiel Novak,” the man added, not stepping any closer.

Still holding his chin high, Dean continued staring and said nothing. His posturing probably wouldn’t fool the guy because Dean’s own body was betraying him. Even if his poker face revealed nothing, his straining boner proclaimed his desire loud and clear. His juicy asshole was practically begging to be fucked and Dean was sure it was obvious, even from across the room, because he could feel a dribble of his own slick leaking from between his cheeks. A bead of it was tracking down his inner thigh at this moment, it’s progression torturously slow.  

“I paid several thousand dollars for you,” the man told him bluntly. “You should show me some respect. Now, speak when spoken to, boy.”

The commanding tone in which those harsh words were spoken went straight to Dean’s dick and it had given a mighty leap in response. In fact, he felt the power of this man’s presence all the way to his knees, which were suddenly weak and jittery. This was going to be so good. Keeping the man in his sight, Dean continued playing cat and mouse with him, opting for a cocky attitude and flirtatious demeanor. He’d have some fun with this… be sarcastic and throw out some funny one liners… basically, he’d just be himself. He wouldn’t make it too easy, but slowly losing to this man would be incredible foreplay, and when he’d finally been beaten, Dean would gladly sink into the role of defeated adversary. He’d beg and plead for mercy as he secretly enjoyed whatever depraved penance was bestowed upon him for the transgression of challenging the irrefutable Lord who would then rule over him. Losing slowly to this man was going to be So. Much. Fun.

Keeping the man in his sight, Dean answered by saying, “Well, I’d introduce myself, but you already know who I am.”

“Yes,” agreed the man, taking one step towards him, “I know who you are. You are Dean Winchester and your reputation precedes you.”

“Ya don’t say,” he replied coyly.

“You were born January 24, 1979. You’re mother is deceased, and your father is wanted in five states. Your younger brother is at Stanford, pre-law, and you. You are here. Up for sale to the highest bidder, despite having numerous warrants issued in Wisconsin and Nebraska.”

Dean could feel the self-assured smile slipping from his face. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“I’ve told you.”

“No, I mean, who the fuck are you and what do you want?”

“I’ve given you my name Mr. Winchester. And as for what I want, I should think that would be obvious. I want ninety minutes of your time.”

“Look buddy,” he said, craning his neck to keep the guy in his sights as he moved across the room. “I don’t know who you are, but if you think that-

Interrupting with a stern voice, the man said, “Dean. I’ve only got eighty-nine minutes left. You’re wasting my time.”

“Alright,” he agreed cautiously, “What do ya wanna do?”

“I’m going to ask you some questions.”

“Questions?” he parrots back incredulously. Then, flatly, “You’ve got questions.”

“Are you going to continue needlessly repeating everything I say?”

“Are you gonna keep mind fuckin’ me? Or can we get down to business?”

There was a moment of silence before the man issued a long-suffering sigh and said, “Mr. Winchester, I paid for this time so that I could do whatever I wanted with you. I can ass fuck you, if that’s what I wish to do. I can face fuck you if I want. Or, I can mind fuck you. For the next hour and a half, Dean, you are mine to do with as I please.”

All Dean could think was, _Ho-ly shit._ Because once again, his thick cock had given an exuberant leap when it heard the man’s authoritative declaration.

Unsure of what to say or do next, Dean filled the uncomfortable silence with sarcasm. “Well, I prefer ass fuckin’ to mind fuckin’, if it’s all the same to you.” With his eyes still locked on the hard blue ones across the room, Dean punctuated his statement by lifting one hip a little and preening his ass in the air.

Despite his confusion at the turn this session had taken and his worry over who this man was and how much he knew of Dean’s hunting life, Dean still wanted to fuck. He go could go for a solid anger bang right now. His stomach was twisting in knots and his puckered hole was aching to be filled. His poor confused cock was so into this dude that it practically had a mind of its own. He could almost feel it straining hopefully towards the man.

“Mr. Winchester,” snapped the man, “I’m here for the mind fuck.”

“Fine,” he conceded, dropping all pretenses of confidence and bravado. Leaning against the wall for support, he let his head rest next to the fixture he was tethered to. “What do ya wanna know?”

Seeming to sense that he’d won this round, the mysterious man tugged off his tan trenchcoat and draped it over the back of a chair. Then, he sat down. “Dean, how long have you been here?”

Closing his eyes so he could count the time, he thought back to the case in Wisconsin with the Benders. That had been February of 2006. Counting the weeks forward from there he answered the question as honestly as he could. “I don’t know my official start-date off the top of my head, but it was near the end of March in ‘06.”

“I see,” the man answered thoughtfully, “and what was it that brought you here?”

“The health plan?”

From behind him, Dean heard the man huff a slight chuckle. Lifting his head to look over his shoulder at the guy, Dean saw that his hard-as-nails personna had momentarily fallen away. Their eyes met again and it was easy to see a flicker of warmth there. It faded as the man took a deep breath and sighed, then the cold and uncaring stare was back. But, having seen a sign that the man might come to like him, Dean was still hopeful. Giving his answer, Dean said, “I was on the west coast visitin’ my brother at school. Scored a few bills off of some douche bag and his friend while we were out playin’ pool. It seemed like I might get lucky, so when the rest of them left, I hung back with the guy. Bought him some drinks with his own money. He tried to lay some bullshit line on me but I called him on it. He came clean and told me he was a workin’ man, if ya know what I mean.”

“Yes, I understand. And?” pressed the man, “The outcome of that conversation?”

“I fucked him.”

“Not the answer I was looking for,” snapped blue eyes.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I fucked him out back, up against the wall behind the dumpster. Didn’t even give him a reach around but he came hard. So did I.”

“Dean, I’m losing my patience with you. How did meeting this man, talking to him, and fucking him behind a dumpster lead to you working here. What is the connection?”

“Dunno, man. I guess I’d just never thought about it before. I knew there were brothels back then, had been to my share, but I’d never thought about actually workin’ in one ‘til I talked to that guy… found out what it was like… how much he made.”

“And now you’re a working man too?”

“Basically.”

“That happened in California, you said. So what made you drive halfway across the country and chose this place to seek employment?”

“I was shoppin’ around for the best benefits package,” Dean joked. But once he saw the impatience and irritation on the man’s face, he quickly amended to a more truthful answer. “Man, I didn’t wanna be doin’ that shit around my brother, okay? He doesn’t need to know.”

“Does he?”

“Does he what?”

“Are we back to repeating, Dean?” barked the man.

“Naw,” he said softly, “M’not repeating. And, no, my brother doesn't know. No one does.”

“But you’re in contact with him?”

“Yeah.”

“How does that work? Doesn’t he wonder what you’re doing with you life?”

“Dude. I’m not the first guy to perfect the art of lying.”

“That’s quite true. So, you lie to your brother about your occupation. What about your father? Are you in contact with him?”

“Oh, um…”

As he fumbled around trying to answer, Dean’s mind was spinning. Thinking clearly wasn’t easy with his brain so clouded by lust. Despite the serious nature of the conversation he was having, Dean was still doped out on a hormone cocktail strong enough to make a dead man come, and chemically altered into having a self lubricating asshole. He was a mess. Even at this moment, when he was starting to suspect that this man was some kind of agent or bounty hunter after his father, Dean still only had one clear thought in his head… that he needed sex.

Turning to face the man at the table, Dean was once more struck by his incredible eyes. They probed at him, almost as if they could see through to his insides.

“Man, I really-”

“Yes Dean?” he prompted.

“I -”

“Dean?”

“Dude,” he groaned, pushing his ass out behind him, “don’tcha wanna fuck me?”

“Dean, I didn’t come here to-

“C’mon, man,” he pleaded, tugging the tether that bound him to the wall. “Look at me, I’m so fuckin’ hard for you. I’m so wet. I fuckin’ need it, man. C’mon and fuck me.”

Dean wasn’t looking at the man anymore, ashamed of his desperation in the moment. But from behind him, he heard the man flatly say, “You want me to fuck you.”

“Now look who’s repeating,” he chuckled lamely.

From across the room, Dean heard the man get up from his chair. Relief swelled in Dean as footsteps approached because he thought that they’d be done talking for a while; that he was going to get what he needed. When he felt the warmth of a body behind him, Dean’s knees buckled. He sucked in a ragged breath and spread his legs.

“I have a question,” whispered the man.

“One more question before you fuck me?” he tried hopefully.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I will fuck you, Dean. But before I consider doing that, I have a question that I need an honest answer to. If you met me out on the street, not here at the brothel, and you had nothing more than a beer or two in your system, would you even be slightly interested in having relations with me?”

Stunned at the question, Dean leaned forward on the wall again. Resting there, he closed his eyes and gave the honest answer. “You’re hot, man. Sexy as fuck. So, yeah, as long as you weren’t a douchebag, I’d totally fuck ya in real life.”

“Do you like working here Dean?”

“I do,” he admitted easily, though he was still resting his weight on the wall. His cock was throbbing like a vicious headache and the sphincter muscle of his anus was aching too. Even his feet were aching a little. Honestly, he’d probably feel better if he could just sit down.

“You’ve been here for years. And still, you enjoy the work?”

“I do,” he answered again. “I fuckin’ love it. Ya know that thing that every guy wants to do, every minute of every goddamn day? That thing we think about every six seconds for our entire lives? Well guess what, buddy, while all the rest of you are just thinkin’ about it, I’m doin’ it. I do it all day, every day, and on my days off, I wish I was still doin’ it. Do you know that they have to force us to take days off?”

“Yes, Dean, I am aware that brothels require time off. It’s the law, they have to.”

“Does the boss man have to force you to take a day off work, Agent? Or do you wake up on Friday thinkin’, ‘thank fuck it’s finally friday’?”

With a gentle huff that was almost a chuckle, the customer leaned in a bit closer and said, “Touché.” Dean relaxed again, letting the wall bear some of his weight as he listened to the sound of retreating footsteps. When the man sat down at the table once more, he said, “What makes you think I’m an agent?”

“Dunno. Maybe it’s the suit and coat. Maybe it’s the way you’re interrogating me. You are, right? An agent, I mean. You’re an agent and you’re after my dad?”

“Would you give him up?”

“Never.”

“So you love him?”

“He’s family.”

“What does that mean to you Dean?”

“Family’s family,” he replied, straightening up. “They’re the ones that matter most. So, no, I’d never give him up to you.”

“But you are in touch with him. You make up lies to tell him because his opinion of you means everything, right?”

“I s’pose.”

“I’m just a stranger to you, Dean, but you’ve been more honest with me than you are with your own family. How is that supposed to prove to me that family is the most important thing?”

“I ain’t tryin’ to prove anything to you,” he growled, now standing tall, “and you ain’t gettin’ anywhere with me.”

“I think you’re right about that,” agreed the agent. “So, I propose a compromise.”

Dean hated to admit interest, but he turned to meet the man's eye and asked, “How would that work?”

“I want answers to my questions, Dean, and you want to get off.”

Grinning widely, Dean adopted the nasally voice of Hannibal Lecter and said, “Quid pro quo, yes or no.”

“Precisely. You answer a question for me, and I’ll give you something you want.”

“I want your cock,” Dean blurted out.

“Oh Dean, I don’t think you understand how this works. My cock is the biggest thing I have to offer. In exchange for that, you’d need to give me your biggest thing… your father. Now, I’ve only just met you, but I think it’s safe to assume that you’d never give up your father just for some dick.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he agreed. “But I’m fuckin’ dyin’ here. How ‘bout you throw me a low level question and when I answer it, you put something in my ass.”

With a pleasant smile, the man said, “I’ll even let you choose the item.”

“Ask then,” Dean grunted, “Make it quick.”

“When was the last time you saw your father in person?”

“Last December. We tried to meet up for Christmas, but it didn’t work out. I saw him on the twenty-seventh.”

Relieved that he’d earned what he needed, Dean let his forehead rest on the wall as he listened to Agent Novak’s steady footfalls moving towards the chest of toys and supplies. “What size would you like?” he asked, perusing the selection.

“Your size,” Dean grinned, “pick one that looks like you.” Honestly, it was disgusting how much he wanted this man. Maybe it was the eyes, or maybe it was the commanding disposition. But clearly there was something. Sure, he was chemically altered at the moment, his libido jacked through the roof. But that just made him want to fuck. It didn’t necessarily make him like his clients.

When the agent crossed the room, Dean’s eyes darted to the object in his hand. “Perfect size,” he said with a wink, “I like it.”

“Obviously mine isn’t pink,” the client deadpanned.

Laughing as he rearranged his feet to spread his legs further apart, Dean once again put his palms to the wall. “Do me a solid,” he added, “and just run that up and down my crack a couple times before ya push it in, okay?”

The agent raised his chin and peered down at Dean from under an arched eyebrow, much like he’d done in the Gallery during bidding. “You’re putting it in,” he said firmly.

“Um, you’re gonna have to turn me loose then,” he replied, tipping his head to indicate the cable tether that wound through both cuffs and his collar. He had about twenty inches of leeway between the three.

“I’ll free you,” said the agent, “but you’re going to take your toy to the bed and that’s where you’ll stay. You’ll follow all of my verbal instructions or the deal is off and you’ll be back in restraints.”

“Deal.”

The agent pulled a key from his dark dress slacks and unlocked Dean. The man left the cable dangling and foisted a pink silicone vibrating dildo towards him. Dean noticed as he accepted it that the agent was careful not to let their hands touch and it bothered him a little. Heading over to the bed, Dean had his toy in one hand and with his free hand, he was already pushing fingers into is ass. “What’s your first name again?” he asked.

“Castiel.”

“Oh, well, thanks Cas,” he said, holding up the vibrator.

The man only nodded from his seat at the table. But as Dean climbed up onto the bed, the man stared at him shamelessly. Dean sat on his heels and turned on the vibration function, selecting an intermittent setting that would change the pattern of vibration at random intervals. Then, with it buzzing away, he reached around behind himself and began working it in.

“Oh yeah,” he moaned, enjoying immediate relief for his aching hole. Circling it around as he pushed, Dean managed to pop the head of it past his rim fairly quickly. After that, he fed the thing in deeper and deeper with a steady hand. Rolling his hips, Dean managed to bump his prostate. That was it. The pleasure switch had been thrown and Dean was back to feeling good.

Holding his toy in with one hand, he wrapped the other around his cock and continued rhythmically rolling his hips to keep nudging the good spot over and over. Already he was building. “This is one smooth talkin’ cock ya got, Cas.”

“Next question Dean. If you’d like to keep that toy, you’ll give me an answer.

Dean looked up to meet eyes with the agent and gave a nod of agreement without breaking the the rhythm he’d established, rolling his hips to work the vibrations through his ass while stroking his dick from base to tip.

“Dean, what would you do if your father found out you were working here?”

Again, an honest answer, “Shit my pants.”

“Would you come clean as you did with me and profess to like it? Or would you leave the job ashamed and beg your father for forgiveness.”

“Yes.”

“Yes to both?”

“Well, I wouldn’t beg him for anything. But, yes to the rest of it.”

“You’re too proud to beg? Even to your father?”

“If I thought begging would get me anything from him, I’d beg. It just doesn’t work. He doesn’t respect it.”

“What happened when you came here, Dean. What were your first few days like?”

What an unusual question. How did that have anything at all to do with his father? _Maybe,_ Dean thought, _maybe he’s just adding some irrelevant questions as an interrogation technique._ Well, if that was the case, Dean had no issue with it. He’d take any easy question he could get. After all, the more answers he gave, the more pleasure he’d earn. Besides, Agent Novak had a voice for sin; deep and rumbling like a vintage muscle car. Every time he said Dean’s name, something deep of inside him responded eagerly. _Bet if the dude talked dirty to me, I could come with no hands._

This is, by far, is his strangest session with an auction winner.  And that’s saying something. Dean has indulged every kind of kink imagineable for auction winners. He’s been paddled, whipped, and even beaten in this room. He’s been jizzed on, peed on, even shat on. He’s had all kinds of props stuffed up his ass and been forced to swallow piss, sweat, and even tears. He’s been made to kneel, squat, crawl, sing, dance, and even stand on his head. He’s been berated, humiliated, laughed at, and cried on. He’s even been choked and poked with pins, and he’s had to listen to intricate descriptions of what his body will look like after he dies… even as he’s being choked within an inch of his life.

It’s not even all that strange for someone to come and just talk. There have been several clients that he can recall who spent the duration of their hard-won time just talking to Dean. But, there was a common thread between all of these people, no matter how strange their request. They were all getting off with him. Some of them were getting off in strange ways, but they were all getting off. Dean had been in his element with each and every one of them too, because that’s his specialty. But not with this guy. Not with Agent Novak. The man seemed completely uninterested in anything sexual. Even when Dean had begged to be fucked and made his physical body into a blatant invitation, still, Novak hadn’t blinked.

_Maybe he doesn’t want me. Maybe he’s straight._

Yes. That seemed plausible. Maybe the guy seemed immune to the sexual component of this session because he was simply not interested in men.

“Dean?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you a question that you’ve not answered yet. What happened when you first arrived here?”

“Oh, yeah, m’not really sure what you’re lookin’ for Agent. I mean, lots of shit happened when I first got here. Narrow it down.”

“When you arrived, did you have to fill out an application?”

“Did that online from two states away.”

“So then what?”

“Came for an interview. Got the basic tour.”

“And you were hired immediately?”

“They called me back for a second interview. Then they hired me.”

“At the second interview.”

“Yeah.”

“What information were you given at that point?”

“M’not sure what you mean,” he said truthfully. Still holding the toy in his ass with one hand and jacking himself with the other, Dean was finding it quite difficult to build up to an orgasm. The constant thinking and talking about non-sexual things was definitely interfering.

“Were you given any information about sexually transmitted diseases?”

“Sure, man, they gave me some pamphlets and stuff.”

“Did they give you any information about the drugs you’d be given while working here?”

“Yeah.”

“More pamphlets?”

“No, they just explained how it works.”

“How what works?”

“Ya know, stuff. They told us about the juice and how it works, explained the shot and everything.”

“How does it work?”

“The shot?”

“Yes.”

“It’s just hormones, man, a shit load of horemones and some kind of accelerant to give it a punch.”

“And being on them is pleasant?”

“Look at me,” Dean barked, his irritation flaring. “I can’t even think straight. All I wanna do is fuck. Fuck all goddamn day. It’s fuckin’ amazing. I’ve got the stamina of racehorse and I have mind blowing orgasms. So, yeah. It’s fucking pleasant.”

“Pardon my saying so, Dean, but you don’t appear to be enjoying yourself right now.”

“That’s cause we’re not fuckin’. Whose fault is that?”

“Mine, I suppose,” Novak relented. “Is the vibrator not sufficient?”

“It’s better than nothing,” Dean conceded. “But I’d rather have the real thing. I’d make it good for ya… we can do whatever you want.”

“I thought I’d made myself clear, Dean. I only want to mind fuck you.”

Dean let his eyes fall to the coverlet on the bed. He continued working himself over, but a long silence fell over both of them. Once more, disappointment washed over Dean as he thought to himself, _He doesn’t want me._

“Dean?”

Without looking up, he responded. “Yeah?”

“Were you given anything in writing that pertained to the libido booster that’s used here?”

“No.”

“What about the oral drug they give you, the one that produces artificial lubrication?”

“No, and it ain’t artificial,” he grumbled, gesturing to the wet spot behind him on the bed, “this is real. My body makes it. I get wet just like a chick does when I’m on it. It’s not like they inject a quart of artificial lube into my fuckin asshole every day. The meds change my body so I can make it. I’m wet for you right now, and it’s 100% me, man. All me.”

“When did you last speak to your father?”

Damn. “This conversation is givin’ me whiplash,” he complained, looking up again to meet eyes with the agent.

“Answer the question, Dean.”

“Yesterday.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Not much. I had left him a message and he called me back. I had just woken up and didn’t wanna accidently say the wrong thing. So I ended the call quick.”

“Why even answer if you weren’t capable of conversing.”

_Interesting question. Why had he?_

“Dean?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged..

The man’s tone was urgent. Pressing him harder. “Dean, why did you answer?”

“Dude, I don’t know. Give me a sec to think wouldja?”

The man’s eyes were glued to him, and Dean could see that he didn’t want to allow Dean to think. He wanted a rash answer, the first thing that came to mind. But nothing was coming to mind.

“Dean,” he said firmly, deeply, “I want to know what you were thinking when you answered the phone. Did you know it was him calling?”

“Yeah.”

“And you knew you weren’t in the right frame of mind to take the call, is that right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why did you?”

“I-”

Louder. More demanding. “Dean. Why did you answer?”

“I just-”

Leaning down to get right in Dean’s face, the steel-eyed man was practically shouting. He was relentless too, giving no time to think. “Why did you answer, Dean, why?”

“I just needed,” he tried, hating how broken his voice sounded. “I just… I just needed-”

“Say it, Dean,” he challenged, still leaning in closer to stare him down. “You know the answer to my question, you just don’t want to say it.”

“I don’t-”

“Just say it!,” Castiel shouted, an inch from Dean’s face. “Just tell me why. Why did you answer the call from your father?”

“I just wanted to hear his voice, okay? That’s it,” he defended, feeling small and lost. “That’s all, man, I just wanted to hear from him.” As soon as the words had left his mouth, Dean regretted having said them. A tear had leaked out as he’d spoken, evidence that what he’d said was nothing but truth. Another followed the first and Dean felt his chin quiver. It was taking all of his strength to not crumble.

Still hovering, staring him down, Agent Novak dropped his voice to a whisper. “You love him.”

Dean let his eyes slip closed and nodded pitifully.

This was the first time his hand had fallen still since he’d climbed onto the bed. The overwhelming urge to fuck was still there, still churning through his body, and to be reminded of his deepest feelings for his father as he rode a dildo and jerked himself off was so disturbing, on so many levels, that Dean couldn’t go on.

With his body completely still now, Dean’s hands both fell slack. The dildo began sliding out of him but he couldn’t bring himself to care. With one hand fallen lax at his side and the other loosely curled around the base of his dick, Dean opened his eyes to the man who’d just rocked his world. And not in the good way.

“What do you want from me?” he asked again. But this time, he wasn’t asking in the brash and overconfident voice of a man. He was asking pitifully in the voice of boy. A lost and frightened little boy. And in that moment, he hated himself.

“I’ve told you what I want from you,” answered the agent. “I want answers. I’m willing to give you something in exchange for those answers. So, what do you want from me, Dean? Is it still my cock?”

Suddenly, anger overtook him. It was sweet relief. He’d choose anger over vulnerability any day of the week. Feeling himself harden, Dean held the man’s gaze as he growled out another truth. “I want you to get the fuck out and leave me alone, that’s what I want from you, agent.”

In response to that, the man actually smiled. It wasn’t a condescending or amused smile, it was a warm one with genuine affection behind it. He reached out and touched Dean for the very first time, resting his hand on the side of Dean’s face and gently stroking down to cup his cheek. “That’s a lie, Dean. You know it is. You don’t want me to leave you alone.”

“What do I want then?” he breathed. He was lost now, uncertain if they were back to cat and mouse, if this was part of the interrogation, or if they were sharing something real.

The man stood up straight and looked down at him, once again the very picture of a dominant male; confident and self assured. Dean felt small. He knew he looked pitiful, sitting there in a wet spot of his own making. His dick still stood tall and proud in it’s cock ring, a sharp contrast to the defeated slump of his shoulders.

Any part of this conversation that had been real was over now, he could tell. They were back to cat and mouse. But, no matter how beaten down he felt right now, Dean refused to give even one more inch. He’d not be the first to look away. He wiped the tear tracks from his cheek with the back of his hand, careful not to break eye contact.

Time ticked by as the two stared one another down, unyielding. Then, Dean heard the beeping start - a familiar warning that their time was almost up. Despite knowing that he probably wouldn’t get an honest answer, Dean asked his question again anyway, just to see what the man would say.

“If I’m lying, and I don’t really want you to leave me alone, then what do I want from you?”

Behind Agent Novak, the door clunked open. In Dean’s peripheral vision he could see the silhouette of a handler waiting to take him away. He didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He just sat there on his heels while the handler waited and the abandoned dildo buzzed away behind him on the bed. Castiel Novak stared back at him ruthlessly, one corner of his mouth tense as though holding back the urge to smirk. “You still want my cock.”

With that said, the handler seemed to lose his patience. He stepped inside and grabbed Dean roughly by the arm. Dragging him up from the bed and out into the hall, the man fumbled with the eyelets on the collar and cuffs to secure a lead in place. None of this broke Dean’s eye contact with the agent. The man had pivoted as Dean was removed to keep their gaze unbroken and both were staring coldly at one another as the door shut between them.

Ushered to the salon next, he was deposited at Lydia’s station. Upon entering, his primary concern had been his appearance. He worried that his emotional state might be noticeable to others. But, after a few minutes, he let go of that. No one seemed to be looking at him any differently, even Lydia. She did, however, mention that he looked as though he hadn’t slept well. She laid cucumber slices over his eyes and told him to relax as he she gave him his massage.

Feeling melancholy, Dean laid there and tried to think rationally. He’d been targeted by a government agency that was after his father. There were serious ramifications to consider. He knew he needed to weigh his options and devise a plan for how to proceed. But, no matter how hard he tried to focus on taking action, his mind kept circling back to his emotions.

Even more frustrating was the way his anger kept flaring every time he remembered being blindsided by his customer. Instead of the epic fuck he’d been expecting, he’d been subjected to interrogation.

He’d been emotionally blackmailed in the process of being questioned, too. He hadn’t outwitted his inquisitor, and the result was a deep sense of failure that now weighed heavily on him. If he’d even managed to just stay silent, that would’ve been better. It wouldn’t have been a victory, but it wouldn’t have been such a raging defeat either.

Sadly, not only did he speak, but he’d answered questions. Even though the information he’d supplied had seemed innocuous at the time, there’s always the possibility that some small thing he’d said would end up bringing the law closer to his family. Realizing that brought a heavy sense of guilt down on his shoulders where it now sat heavily. He was powerless to banish it. And worst of all? He’d shown weakness. Normally, burying his feelings under bravado was second nature for Dean. So the fact that he’d shown such vulnerability today was adding a hearty helping of humiliation to go with his guilt and sense of failure.

  
  


The fact that his comfortable world here at the brothel had been invaded, both angered him and frightened him in turn. He hadn’t even realized it was happening, but living comfortably in this pleasure palace had softened him. He’d started feeling safe, as though the monsters of the world couldn’t reach him here and neither could his family’s struggle to hunt those monsters. Here, tucked away in secret, Dean had even felt safe from his father’s disapproval. But clearly, any feelings of secrecy or safety were nothing but illusion. Having that blissful illusion shattered… well, that angered him too.

When the cucumber slices were removed, Lydia said she was finished with him and called over a handler. He’d had a window of quiet time to figure out his next move, and he’d squandered it. He’d curled up like a dog to lick his wounds after a fight and wasted precious time. As he was escorted to the rec room, Dean was wondering if he’d even be able to perform. He really wasn’t in a good state of mind.

But, as he walked in, Dean found himself easily letting his problems slip away to the back of his mind. The erotic sounds of sex enveloped him immediately and before he’d even had time to choose a path through the various connected rooms, he’d been pulled into a sex sandwich with a husband and wife. In lieu of a vacation this year, they said, they’d funneled their budgeted dollars into fulfilling some of their sexual fantasies here at the brothel.

Dean’s need to bounce back from his emasculation with Agent Novak was met as he responded to the wife’s request for a heated anger bang. They exchanged names and safewords before he sprang on her, bending her double over the back of the nearest couch. He’d surprised her, which had her flailing, but she loved it, and he could tell that her husband did too because he was smirking and nodding his approval as Dean held her down. With one hand between her shoulder blades to keep her in a submissive position, Dean used his other to shove her skirt up. She was wearing a delicate thong and he yanked it down hungrily. He especially loved the way it seemed to cut into the supple flesh of her thighs as she struggled.  

He pushed his meaty cock up to her crack and used his knees to further part her legs. Pushing up between them, he hauled her ass higher and reached around to slide one hand into her slit. It was every bit as wet and needy as his own ass was in the moment and he groaned aloud as he began stroking her clit. This wasn’t a lazy Sunday morning screw either, it was an anger bang at her request so he wasn’t gentle. He vigorously scrubbed at her sweet spot with three fingers, hard and fast, the way someone shakes an etch-a-sketch. As he was doing that, he pressed his cock head to her tight pink pucker.

Beneath him, she sucked in a deep and ragged breath and then looked back over her shoulder as if surprised by this unexpected turn of events.

“You wanted it angry,” he reminded her. “Trust me, sweetheart, no angry man wants to fuck your pussy. They wanna fuckin’ ruin you. They want you to scream for real. Now, you wanna be angry fucked or not?”

Even as he waited for her answer, his cock was applying pressure to her dry hole. His right hand was vigorously working her sweet spot and she was responding to it. She was panting loudly, arching her back, and spreading her legs wider for him. “Yes,” she finally said, probably hating to admit it. She then rocked back into him as she added, “Yeah, I want it. Give it to me.”

Feeling powerful as she bent to his will, Dean ran his heated crown down into the hole where her juicy wetness gathered, pushing the head of his dick up inside to get it slicked up. Then he dragged that wetness up to her nervous little rosebud. Over and over he did that, enjoying the sensation and aching to push in somewhere tighter. He waited though, keeping his eyes mostly on the husband as he worked her into a frenzy.

The guy wanted him, it was all over him. The two had obviously chosen Dean together, both of them attracted to him. Glancing down at his own cock, Dean enjoyed both the look and feel of it slip sliding along as it moved lazily between her holes.

Her fear seemed to be gone now as she moaned wantonly beneath him. With the two middle fingers of one hand, he traced over the tighter of her entrances a few times and then pushed them in.

She bucked beneath him, pitching and rolling and carrying on as he began to urgently scissor his fingers in her hole. The hand he was using to roughly work over her clit was growing tired and stiff so he withdrew it and left her wanting as he worked her open for him. She cursed him and called him names when he added another finger, but didn’t safeword. All the while, the pressure in his cock was building and his jealous asshole was leaking copious amounts of slick.

Exerting dominance was doing a lot for his ego at the moment and with the return of his confidence, Dean also found himself eager to be roughly fucked when he finally took her. No such offer had yet been made aloud, but Dean could see the promise of it in the man’s eyes as he watched his wife being handled so callously.

Looking back down, Dean couldn’t help but grin as he watched her pink hole twitching in both fear and excitement when he withdrew his fingers. Grasping her hips with both hands again, Dean butted the head of his cock up against her bright pink rim and pushed. He didn’t shove in brutishly, but he didn’t go slow and easy either. He gave a steady push knowing that to her it would feel as though she was being split wide open.

At the moment of penetration, she screamed. He both heard and felt it. Her body locked beneath his as the long push filled her in a way that she was clearly not used to. He could almost feel her trying to decide if she liked it or not.

Glancing back to the husband, Dean gave the man a wink and hoped he’d join now. Then, turning his attention back to the wife, Dean reached under her belly and back, seeking out her sweet spot once more.

With her body stuffed full, she remained still as she struggled to get used to the sensation. He knew it might take some time because his own first time had been similarly overwhelming. To help her stay horny enough to enjoy being fucked this way, he reached around her middle to once again start working her clit. Rubbing vigorously, he kept his hips still and simply enjoyed the feeling of her body clenching tightly around his manhood.

Then, looking over at the husband, Dean saw that the man was now moving closer, he was massaging his dick through his pants. Seeing the size and shape of it, Dean’s heart began to pound.

“You give it to her,” he said darkly, “and I’ll give it to you.”

Thrilled with how this was playing out, Dean nodded his agreement. He once more exchanged names and safewords. Then, he tipped his chin to indicate the man was free to mount him.

Before taking another step, the man issued a stern warning by saying, “I’m gonna tear you up.”

Further titillated, Dean smirked as he said, “You picked the right guy, man. Do your worst. If I like it, then you ain’t doin’ it right.”

The guy was on him in a heartbeat and Dean was suddenly folding forward over the wife’s stiff body. Behind him, he heard a zipper coming down and then there was a bulbous crown pressing into the ache between his cheeks. Slick as he was back there, even such a wide cock was easily pushed inside of him. Wetness didn’t make up for the lack of prep though, and Dean cried out against the woman’s back as his rim caught fire.

The ache from his needy hole was quenched with outright pain as Dean was speared and the man showed him no mercy as he buried himself. Like the wife had done a moment ago, Dean now stilled and locked his body as he willed himself to accommodate the glorious intruder that was forcing its way inside. By effort of sheer will he managed to at least keep his hand moving over her slit, the powerful pleasure from her sweet spot overriding the pain of his intrusion into her and making the act salacious and erotic rather than just one she’d grit her teeth and suffer through.

Keeping up the pretenses of an anger bang, he didn’t speak kindly to her. Instead he growled for her to shut up take it, even as he willed himself to do the same. Shivers of excitement sprinkled across his back when Dean felt the man’s hands come to his hips. Then, he took a deep breath as he felt the fat cock between his cheeks begin to pull back.

Groaning aloud over the wife’s back, Dean let himself enjoy the feeling of his body clinging greedily to that dick as it slid out and back in, fiery pain subsiding until it was just welcome heat. His body was rocking now as the man behind him picked up a rhythm and as he was rocked, so was the body beneath him.

For the rest of their time together Dean switched hands as he needed to, making sure to keep her clit pulsing with pleasure as he buried his throbbing cock into her ass over and over. That, he knew, was the only way most women really enjoyed anal. Dean was nothing if not attentive to the needs of his customer. But, aside from keeping her motor revving, Dean was also focused on what he was getting.

The husband, whose name he’d already forgotten, was making good on his promise to do some damage. Despite his backside being sloppy wet, his hole was being stretched to its limits and growing raw from abuse as he was violently fucked from behind. In his current state of mind, pain was welcome. He knew he deserved it and he took it like a man.

Moving between the couple, Dean simultaneously absorbed punishment and reveled in pleasure. They rocked faster and harder as they all built towards an orgasm together, and Dean could feel his coming… knew it would be powerful. He hoped he’d be able to keep on his feet when he finally blew his load.

Unexpectedly, the wife grew quite vigorous near the end. She braced herself up on her elbows, flipped her hair from her face, and cursed them both even as she begged for it harder. It was as he watched her finally succumb to the mounting pleasure that Dean finally reached his climax. He locked his arms around her petite frame and grit his teeth as he pumped a heavy load into her ass. His vision greyed out for a moment, but neither of them were still even for a second because even as they were lost in the heights of pleasure, the man in back was just nearing his peak.

His powerful hips snapped forward into Dean’s body and reverberated through her body as well.  Dean held on for the guy, though. His knees were shaking with the effort of holding the husband up and his spine was like jello, but Dean remained locked in position as the man plowed into him.

Only after he’d finally come did their three bodies begin to pull apart. They sank to the floor in a quivering pile. Knees and elbows were everywhere as they each found a comfortable position for recovery.

“Hope you guys come back tomorrow,” husked Dean, still breathing heavily. He watched the couple turn to look at one another and chuckle. They both appeared content as they leaned in to share a lazy, post-coidal kiss. Dean had only meant to rest for a few minutes, but the next thing he knew, someone was rousing him from sleep.

Opening his eyes, he saw two handlers crouching over him. One was asking if he could walk and he nodded, giving each of them one of his hands. They hoisted him to his feet and positioned themselves on either side of him. Leaning on them a bit for support, Dean made his way back to the spa for rejuvenation.

As he laid comfortably on the table for a massage, he tried again to think strategically. He needed to formulate a plan; decide what to do about Agent Novak. But, despite the heavy implications of having been targeted by a federal agent, keeping himself focused was next to impossible. He was both physically and emotionally exhausted. Sleep kept creeping up to steal him away from consciousness and eventually he just surrendered to it.

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, once again Destiella saved me from a huge and embarrassing mistake. She's an amazing partner for fic writing... doesn't even give me hard time for stuff like that.

                                                                

Teased back to the waking world by the firm press of fingers to his ass, Dean blinked his dry eyes and stretched. A languid sensuality was spreading over him as strong, masculine hands worked his body. One of Dean’s favorite things about his life here, next to the constant sex of course, was the perpetual massaging. And perhaps the endless supply of decent food that was readily available on his resting days.

The nudge of fingertips was pressing closer to his hole and in response a tantalizing tingle of excitement was gathering around his rim. With no idea how many minutes he’d actually lost to his little cat nap, Dean glanced around the room and tried to guess the time. A sense of urgency was creeping up on him as he came fully awake and remembered the exchange with Novak. He needed to decide what to do and take action, but he was losing precious time as he floundered around aimlessly amid his normal routine. But really, it wasn’t easy to think clearly and rationally when he was constantly enveloped in a hazy cloud of lust.

Even now the want was growing sharp in him again. Soon all logic and reason would slip away from him and when he was teased back to full hardness, sex would become his top priority. Then, after he’d fucked himself out again, he’d be too tired to care. Dean knew that he had break this endless loop of eroticism or it would keep him perpetually locked in a cycle of fucking and resting and fucking and resting.

Looking up at his stylist, Dean said, “Hey man, what’s your name?”

“You can call me Ketch,” answered the man, not even pausing in his work as he kneaded Dean’s ass.

“Ketch, man, you do good work. But, can you grab a nurse for me?”

Casting a glance around, Ketch gave a nod and stepped away. Dean missed his hands the moment he was gone. Growling to himself in frustration, Dean ground his flaccid cock into the padded table. It wasn’t easy to interfere with his body’s building desire or sacrifice his own pleasure. It was also irritating to relinquish time in the rec room, which was what he’d be doing if he asked to take any time off. Clearly it was necessary, though. He needed distance, perspective.

In his peripheral vision, a sharp movement caught his attention. Swiveling his head to see what it was, Dean’s gaze found a floor-walker staring at him. She’d been moving briskly down the aisle until stopping short, and now she was looking at him with a critical eye.

Floor-walkers were supervisory staff, their primary function being the maintenance of a multitude of spreadsheets that organized absolutely everything. The schedules of the employees and the inventory of supplies were in their hands. They were also responsible for ensuring the success of private parties, an adequate number of bodies to service clients in the Rec Room, a constant flow of fresh bodies to be auctioned off in the Gallery, as well as the needed security and support staff to keep everything running smoothly. As a secondary function, the floor-walkers were also responsible for maintaining quality standards whenever they weren’t staring at a computer screen. So they were frequently seen walking around the facility, watching to be sure that everything was happening the way it should. Because of that, they’d been dubbed ‘floor-walkers’. Dean had no idea what their actual job title was, and he didn’t care. But, he knew it was these employees who ensured that handlers were following the rules, customers were being treated well, and safety standards were being followed. For the most part, floor-walkers blended into the background. That’s why it was so odd to have one openly staring at him.

Unable to ignore it, Dean looked right at the woman and said, “Somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” she answered, a bit too quickly. “But… where is your stylist?”

“He went to get me a nurse,” Dean answered, letting his heavy head fall back to the cushioned table.

“Something wrong with the call button?” she pressed, stepping closer.

“M’not sure,” he shrugged.

As he watched, she reached over him to press a button on the wall. Overhead a blue light went on and she stood back to look at it with her arms crossed. Her face was tense. Cross. As she stood there, Ketch returned with Anna by his side. She was pushing her computer cart as usual and stepped up to Dean with a concerned smile. “How are we feeling today?” she asked.

“Okay, I guess. A little tired, to be honest. And I can feel a headache coming on.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. Stepping up to his side, she pulled her stethoscope from around her neck. Popping the coated tips into her ears, she motioned for him to turn over and then pressed the cool metal bell to his chest. As she listened to his heart intently, Dean was watching the floor-walker speak to Ketch. Her face was pursed and it was obvious that she was displeased.

“Each stylist has a designated area,” she was telling him, “and within that area is everything needed to attend to those in their care. You have call buttons for a reason. We don’t want anyone left unattended. If you need a handler, or a nurse, or even security, all you have to do is push a button and the appropriate party will respond.”

“I apologize,” responded Ketch, in an uppity British accent, “but he requested a nurse and I’d just seen Anna walk past. It seemed like a good idea to simply intercept her, rather than wait for the on-call nurse to answer the light.”

“I see,” she said coldly, arms still crossed. “But the error in that logic is that you’ve left your charge alone and untethered.”

“He was snoring only a moment ago. I assure you, there was no risk in him being untethered.”

“Mr. Ketch, just like the call buttons, the tethers are used for a reason. Collectively, the workers in this building are on a wide range of enhancers, inhibitors, and genetically engineered hormones. The side effects of those, combined with the physical and emotional hazards of their jobs can leave workers prone to outbursts. It’s rare, but it happens. For their own safety, and to abide by the law, we must keep them under restraint when unsupervised. You left this man completely unattended for over a minute. Now, that might not seem like a long time to you, but it’s long enough for him to have gotten up and left the area. That is simply unacceptable Mr. Ketch.”

“Oh,” he said, his posture defiant, “I didn’t realize. I’ve seen so many untethered patients lately that I guess I’d thought the standards were a bit more lax.”

“Our standards are not lax, Mr. Ketch. So, going forward, if you see that kind of thing happening, please advise the leadership staff immediately. We’ve had inquiries from the oversight committee twice this month due to outside complaints. It would seem that our quality standards have been slipping lately and we need to work to restore them. I will be filling out an incident report regarding your violation of policy. Remedial training will be conducted in response.”

“Well then,” sighed Ketch, “I guess there’s nothing further to discuss at this time.”

Dean couldn’t help grinning as he watched the man try to end the conversation. Stealing his attention back, the sound of ripping velcro brought Dean’s eyes back to his nurse who was now  wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his arm. He watched her face as she inflated it. She glanced up at him once and gave an easy smile before dropping her eyes to the dial that gave a reading as she slowly deflated the cuff.  

“Your vitals look good,” she told him as he she entered the information in her portable computer. “Would you like something for your headache?”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

She punched in a code on her rolling cart and a drawer slid open. She extracted a small bottle and carefully shook two pills into a little paper cup, handing it to him with a bottle of water. He sat up a little to swallow the tablets and as he was tipping back the water bottle to wash them down, Ketch was stepping back up to his table.

“Sorry ‘bout her,” said Dean to Ketch as he re-capped the water bottle.  

“Naomi’s a bitch,” said Ketch. “Just ignore her. I always do.”

“How have you been sleeping, Dean?” asked Anna.

“Okay. I mean, I asked to be knocked out the other night, but I usually do the night before I come back to work. It’s just hard to sleep once I get the shot. I mean, on the nights when I haven’t worked, I’m just not tired enough to sleep through what it does to me.”

“That’s understandable,” she nodded. “According to your chart, you’ve declined water a couple times this week. You’ve actually had less than eighteen ounces since you’ve returned from resting. That could be a factor in your headache. Please try to drink water whenever it is offered to you, even if you’re not especially thirsty, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, toying with the water bottle in his hands as he asked Anna, “Do you think I can take the rest of the day off?”

“Of course,” she answered kindly, fingers clicking away on the keyboard.

"I need to leave the grounds."

“Oh, I see,” she replied, eyes scanning the spreadsheet on her computer screen. “In that case, I  would suggest taking tomorrow off as well. You probably won’t be cleared to check out for a while, and even if you’re not gone for very long, you’re almost certain to miss the window for receiving a preparatory injection for tomorrow.”

Deciding to forfeit half of a sex day hadn’t been easy. The idea of losing another day on top of it was even worse. But, Dean couldn’t deny that it was necessary. He had to warn his family about what was going on, and he had to do it fast.  “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll take tomorrow off too.”

“Good for you, Dean,” she said, giving his thigh a reassuring pat. “I hope you enjoy the time away. Try to get some rest and don’t forget to hydrate.”

“I’ll be a good boy,” he promised her, adding his trademark wink and a smile.

“No you won’t,” she teased warmly. “It’s lucky you’re my favorite.”

“Back atcha, sweetheart.”

Both he and Ketch watched Anna depart and as they did, the stylist said, “I’ll fetch you a handler.”

“How ‘bout we finish the massage first,” Dean tried, still feeling horny. “We were just gettin’ to the good part.”

“I’ll get you a handler,” he repeated dryly, clearly giving Dean a hard ‘no’ to any further pleasure.

Dean watched the man take two steps from him and then stop. Obviously thinking better of it, he pivoted back to Dean’s table and reached up to push the call button for a handler. A green light came on overhead and as they waited for someone to come, Ketch snapped Dean into his cuffs. He was threading a lead through the eyelet on Dean’s collar when a familiar face presented itself.

“Oh good it’s you,” said Dean with disdain.

“Oh yeah,” sneered Meg in response, “I’m excited too. I’ve been on the edge of my seat all day just hoping for a few minutes with you, Winchester.”

Begrudgingly, he rose from the table and followed her out. “I don’t wanna go to my cage,” he told her, “I wanna go to the resting room. I need to get my laptop.”

“Sorry to disappoint, stud, but we’re going to the medical wing.”

“What the fuck for?”

“You’re seeing the head shrinker.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. It’s your six month eval. You were meant to do it tomorrow, but when your schedule was updated for time off, the appointment pushed up into the first open slot. That’s fifteen minutes from now.”

“Who am I seeing?”

“Mildred Baker.”

“Good,” he sighed, resigning himself to the chore.

“Good?”

“Yeah. I’ve never met her before, but I know she’ll be better than the d-bag I usually see.”

“Who’s that?”

“Zachariah. That dude’s like ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.”

“I won’t argue that,” she agreed. “Mildred’s more your type anyway.”

“Meg, you know dick about my type.”

“I know that Blanche was your favorite Golden Girl, ” she purred, giving him a satisfied smile.

Walking alongside her, Dean couldn’t help wondering how she’d known that. It must’ve shown on his face too, because she rolled her eyes and said, “Oh please, you’re so predictable.”

With no witty retort coming to mind, Dean opted to stay quiet. “You know, Adler’s actually kinda funny,” mused Meg. “He prob’ly wouldn’t be so bad if he loosened up a little. I think he just needs to get laid.”

Cringing at the thought, Dean said, “Don’t look at me. If he’s too stiff to bend over, then there ain’t much I can do for him.”

“I get the feeling he’s the bender, not the bendee,” she snorted.

“Nah, I bet he’s junkless down there, ya know, like a Ken doll.”

They both burst out laughing at the same time, which was rare. Normally, if either of them was laughing it was the other’s expense. But as strange as today had been so far, it was par for the course.

Entering the medical wing, they checked in at the nurses station. When directed to the waiting room, the two settled into chairs and watched a television on the wall until Dean was called.

Handing off his lead to a nurse’s aid, Meg departed wordlessly, any trace of good humour already having faded.

Ushered into a comfortable office, Dean was greeted by an older woman. She looked to be coming up on retirement, but he could tell that in her heyday she’d been smokin’ hot. Standing up from her chair, she leaned across the expanse of her desk to shake his hand with a wide smile as she introduced herself and encouraged him to call her by her first name. As that was happening, the nurse’s assistant removed his lead and laid it on the desk. She then held up a soft robe for him and he stepped into it. As she let go, he pulled it shut and tied it at the waist.

When Mildred dismissed her with a nod, she closed the door on her way out.

Alone now, Mildred indicated he should take whichever seat appealed to him. Selecting the chair instead of the stereotypical sofa, Dean settled in and she pivoted her chair to face him.

“Taking some time off?” she asked casually.

“Just tomorrow,” he answered, adjusting his legs. “There’s somethin’ I gotta take care of. No big deal.”

“I see. And did you have anything in particular that you’d like to discuss today?”

“Not really. I mean, I get that these sessions are necessary to, ya know, just to check and make sure none of us are gonna leave for a few hours and then come back shootin’. But really lady, I’m fine.”

“Mildred,” she corrected gently. Then with a coy smile, she added, “I don’t like being called ‘lady’ because I feel like it’s just short for ‘old lady’.

“Okay, Mildred. You seem pretty cool so I’ll just lay this on ya. I just got mind fucked a few hours ago. I’m not especially lookin’ forward to more of the same. So how ‘bout you just ask me the standard questions and we get this over with quick and painless.”

“I’ve never been much for quickies,” she told him, double entendre obviously intentional. “But I’ll start with the easiest question. How have you been feeling lately?”

“Good.”

“Any trouble sleeping?”

“Nope.”

Flipping through his chart, she didn’t look up at him when she said, “I see you’ve requested sedation thirty four times since your last mental health evaluation.”

“Okay, you win. I have trouble sleeping. But only when I’m well rested. That seems normal to me. I mean, is it realistic to expect a well-rested man to sleep through a testosterone rush on the level we get here?”

“That’s fair,” she nodded. “My only other concern based on your daily charting is your lack of time off. You’ve got over six weeks of paid time off available and another two weeks that will drop at the end of the fiscal year. Is there a reason you aren’t using any of it?”

“Don’t need it,” he said with a shrug. “I love my job.”

“Don’t you have anything you’d like to do? Trips you’d like to take? Family functions you’d like to attend?”

“Well, my family ain’t exactly the Waltons,” he said acerbically. “I’ve already been to the Grand Canyon and I’ve seen the world's biggest ball of twine. What else is there?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” she smiled softly, “the Medieval Torture Museum in St. Augustine?”

“Florida?”

“Where else.”

“Is that down the street from the world’s longest stuffed alligator?”

“Yes,” she joked, catching on to his sense of humor. “And it’s right across the road from the biggest shark tooth.”

“I’ve been around plenty,” he reassured her. “And for the time being, I’m happy where I’m at. I would think that’s a good thing. Or, am I wrong about that?”

“No, Dean. I’m glad to hear that you’re happy here. What’s your favorite thing about the job?”

“The sex.”

She smiled, possibly stifling a chuckle if the tension in her jaw was any indication.

“What?” he prodded, “Is there any other answer? Is there really some schmuck that walks in here and says the 401k is what he likes best about the job?”

“Have you always enjoyed sex?”

“How much do they pay you for these insightful questions?”

“How often do you deflect questions with humor?”

“Almost exclusively.”

“What else do you enjoy in life, besides sex?”

“Killing something that deserves to die.”

“Like?”

In his head, Dean was picturing the faces of monstrous people that he’d single handedly planted six feet under. But to his head shrinker, he replied, “Snakes. Cockroaches. Rats.”

“Interesting.”

“Not really. It’s not like it’s a hobby or anything. I don’t watch rat hunting shows on the outdoor channel, and I don’t suit up with my buddies and go out into the woods at the ass-crack of dawn to hunt them down. I’m jus’ sayin’, when there’s somethin’ nasty that needs killin’, I like doin’ it. You asked what I enjoy.”

“What else do you enjoy?”

“Pie.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“Red meat too. I love a juicy steak.”

With her expression unchanging, she stared across the desk at him.

“You know what?” he prompted.

“What?”

“Give me a steak, pie for dessert, and then lemme bang the waitress that brought it all to me. That right there is a blue ribbon day.”

“Describe her.”

“Who?”

“Your waitress.”

“Oh, well, let’s see… um brunette. No, blonde. Wait, no, brunette. Yeah, brunette. With blue eyes. Nice ass.”

“Anything else that stands out?”

“She wants me. I love it when I can see how much they want me… when they look like they wanna crawl right into my lap.”

“Because it’s easy that way? Do you like it to be easy?”

“I like gettin’ what I want. And, yeah, if it’s quick and easy that’s always been a plus.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“Well, my mom died when I was young. My dad did his best with my brother and me, but his best wasn’t good enough. Nowhere near. I picked up the slack for Sammy the best I could. But even that wasn’t enough. He shoulda had better than the two of us.”

“What is your brother doing now?”

“He’s in college. Goes to Stanford, actually, gonna be a lawyer. Damned good one.”

“Does he visit you here?”

“Just ask me if he knows, okay? I don’t like the back door questions.”

“Sorry,” grinned Mildred, “I like the back door.”

“Good on you,” he laughed, catching another of her double entendres. “And so do I. But if you wanna get honest answers from me, don’t convolute the questions.”

“I understand,” she nodded respectfully. “So tell me, Dean, does your brother know what you do for a living?”

“No.”

“What about your father?”

“No.”

“Who does know?”

“The three most important people in my life,” he replied smugly, “Me, myself, and I.”

“You’ve been employed here for quite some time,” she reminded. “And you’ve said that you’re very satisfied with the work. To me, that implies a sense of permanence. You’re not looking to change your career path anytime soon, right?”

“That’s right. A wise man once said, ‘Do one thing and do it well’.”

“You seem quite proud, Dean. So why is it that you’ve chosen to keep your profession a secret from your family?”

“Same as everybody else, I guess. Ask anybody why they’re in the closet and they’ll all pretty much give ya the same freakin’ answer. We’re all keepin’ our secret for the same reason, lady. Sorry... Mildred. We’re all keepin’ the secret ‘cause the people in our lives can’t handle it. If I told my dad what I was doin’ he’d lose his shit. I’ve spent my whole life tryin’ to be a good son. So, what, I’m gonna throw all that out the window now? Just so he can know that I like dick? That my ass is up for sale to the highest bidder?”

“Are you bisexual Dean?”

“I guess so,” he admitted. “Both teams have impressive contributions to the sport, right?”

“Do you have a preference?”

Thinking for a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, most days, I prefer a dude. But, really, when it comes to sex, I’m up for most anything.”

“Have you ever told your family of your preferences?”

“Nope.”

“So they’ve never seen you in any sexual context? They’ve never seen you express an attraction towards either gender? Never seen you with a significant other?”

“They think I like the ladies. Exclusively. In fact, my brother perfected his bitch face by watchin’ me bang waitresses in every diner and dive bar we passed through.”

“What did your father say about this?”

“Nothin’. I get the feelin’ he did the same when us boys weren’t around. As we got older, he left us to ourselves more and more. He’d be out on his own for days and weeks at a time so I’m guessing he ain’t very conservative with the sperm.”

“Did he ever say anything to you about your behavior? Did he ever express concerns that your younger brother might be adversely affected by witnessing your voracious sexual exploits?”

“Nah,” Dean sighed, leaning back. “I think I mentioned that we ain't exactly the Waltons.”

“Well, if sexual morality wasn’t something that your father was especially fixated on, what makes you think he’d have an adverse reaction to finding out your occupation. Or even your sexual preferences for that matter?”

“‘Cause I know him,” Dean answered firmly. “He’s an ex-Marine. Code of honor, manly pursuits, I’ve had that shit crammed down my throat all my life. Honestly, if you can get past the hypocrisy of it all, I’m in. Love of country, duty to family, honor in all things. I think there’s worse he could’ve taught us.”

“Tell me about the hypocrisy.”

“Oh, I’m sure you know what I mean. You don’t need me to give ya examples. The same dudes savin’ lives and gettin’ medals of honor will beat down a tranny in the street, call a guy a fag and kick his teeth in, just cause they can. Where’s the honor in that shit, right? Hell, they fuck over their own if they find out they’re queer.”

“I can see why you’d say that,” Mildred nodded, “but I think it’s also fair to say that there’s been tremendous progress in that area over the past decade. Not all Marines harbor a toxic masculinity, and not all of them discriminate on the basis of sexual preference. There are many members of the armed services who are out and proud and embraced by their peers. And as much as I understand why you’ve said what you said, I feel that a blanket statement like that gives an impression of hopelessness that could be quite defeating. People can change, Dean. The progress is often frustratingly slow, but there is growth.”

Something in her expression resonated with him. Silence fell between them as he considered her and began to realize that because of her age, she’d had a much longer timespan for comparison. When she thought back on the social climate of her youth and compared it to the way things were now, she probably saw huge changes. Dean’s own frame of reference was much shorter, but he did understand that she was trying to encourage him. Still, even if the world was changing, that didn’t help him much. His biggest issues were with his father. And his father wasn’t one for changing regardless of what the rest of society was doing.

At that moment, Dean almost did it. He could feel himself preparing to let loose… to just let the walls down and really start talking to her about all of it… everything… his issues with society and how it both labeled and discarded people like him, his father and how the man saw him, what that had been doing to Dean all these years… yeah. He almost let her in. But, after a lifetime of deflection through humor and sarcasm, in that moment it was just too easy to continue with more of the same.  

He didn’t actually lie, he just gave her the shortest answer and made sure there was a harsh edge to his words to avoid seeming vulnerable. Because he liked her, Dean tried to cover the coldness of his words by delivering them with his most charming smile. “Sweetheart,” he said, “are you tryin’ to tell me that my dad’s gonna come around one day? That at some point he’s gonna be cool with me blowin’ dudes? ‘Cause I gotta be honest Mildred, I don’t think you’re gonna live long enough to see that day.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Dean wished he could take them back. He liked her. Really liked her. And despite the winning smile she’d plastered on to match his own, it was obvious that absorbing his jab had stung a little.

“Look,” he said, trying to move on, “I’m sorry but if you’re tryin’ to give me a pep talk, you can skip it. I appreciate the effort, but I don’t need ya to blow sunshine up my ass. I know exactly what kind of man my father is. If I ever tell him, I need to be ready to lose him.” The words tried to stick in his throat, but he forced them out. Then, with some momentum built up, he was able to tack on a very honest proviso. “If I’m bein’ honest, I have to admit that holidays might be better without him. The guy grabs a bucket of fried chicken for Thanksgiving and passes out on the couch. What’s to miss, right?”

Her eyes didn’t waiver. They bored into him, practically daring him to continue giving her honest answers. “How do you think your brother would react if you told him?”

“Um, I’m pretty sure he’d be cool with me blowin’ dudes,” he replied, “but he’d probably puke on his shoes if he knew I was a whore.”

“Dean, you’re job title is Relationship Manager.”

“Mildred, c’mon. You know the saying… if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a fuckin’ duck. A duck is a duck, and I’m a whore.”

“Why? Why did you specifically choose the word whore?”

“Cause I’m honest.”

“You’re family would beg to differ.”

“I’m being honest with you,” he clarified.

“I’m glad. I appreciate your candor. Now, tell me Dean, what things do you think would change about your life if you were honest with your family about your sexual preferences and your current career path?”

“Career path? Wow. Okay, um, I guess I can play along,” he said with a smirk. Then, as he prepared to answer, he tried to picture it. Not the coming out moment, he dared not even imagine that. But, the outcome of the conversation was easy enough to predict.

“Well, my dad would cut me off, for sure. He might take back the car he gave me, and that would fucking suck. I love that car. She’s my baby. He might even take back the gun he gave me. I’d miss that too. It’s a Colt series, chrome plated with scroll detailing on the barrell and ivory grips. Sammy’s has more capacity, but I’ve always been a better shot anyway. So, I guess my life would feel different if I didn’t have the things he’s given me. But, with my dad out of my life, lots of things would be easier, that’s for sure.

“Sammy would be cool with me coming out, I’m pretty sure. But he’d be annoying. He’d prob’ly try’n fix me up with every gay dude he knows… pester me to move to Cali with him. Hell, he wouldn’t stop ‘til I was eatin’ bean sprouts ‘n wheatgrass with him, married to some douchebag who wears loafers with no socks and tryin’ to adopt a frickin’ baby from China.”

“So Dean, let’s say you come out to your family and things play out the way you’ve described.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s the worst thing about your new life?”

“Lady, there are only two people in this world that give fuck if I live or die,” he snapped. “And in your little scenario, I’ve just lost one of them for good.”

“Okay, and what is the best thing about your new life?”

“That’s easy,” he said, relaxing even at the thought, “No more lying to them.”

“You’d get to be yourself.”

“Lady, I don’t even know who that guy is.” Catching himself again, Dean corrected. “Mildred. Sorry.”

“Dean, I think you know exactly who you are. I think you’d love to let that version of yourself behind the wheel for a while. And, if your father takes back the car he gave you, perhaps that’s just the universe telling you that it’s time you chose one for yourself instead of just accepting what’s been offered to you. Especially if accepting what’s offered means you have to fit into someone else’s idea of who you are.”

Considering her words, Dean slowly began nodding as he realized that he actually agreed with her a little. Looking up to meet her eye, Dean couldn’t help himself. “I bet you were a stone cold fox back in the day.”

“I’m a fox now,” she winked at him. “Silver fox,” she added, leaning back in her chair, “and I would’ve made a meal out of a young man like yourself.”

“I woulda been a lucky guy.”

“Dean, what’s the worst thing about your job?”

“Having to pretend to like things I don’t. Like, I get it. That comes with the territory. But, man do I hate suckin’ on feet. It’s like the worst fuckin’ thing they can ask me to do.”

“Does that come up frequently?”

“Not really, but even once is too much. I hate it.”

“And what’s the best thing about your job?”

“Are you kidding? I don’t think I can pick just one thing.”

Looking at him from across her desk, Mildred held her eyes level on him. She was clearly waiting for a real answer.

“Dunno. But when I think about the life I had before I came here… getting laid was pretty much the best thing that could happen on any given day. Life just sucked back then… always on the road… stuck in the car with my old man and my gassy brother… sharing dumpy motel rooms off the interstate… eatin’ greasy diner food and listenin’ to Sammy whine about all of it… him and my dad arguing over every fuckin’ thing that came up… I mean, when that’s your life… a good meal or a slice of pie can be the only good thing that happens all day. A nice tussle out back with the waitress? A nod of approval from the old man when he sees me leavin’ with her? That’s as good as it gets.”

“And now, all your days are good days, because you always get to ‘tussle’.”

“Now you’re catchin’ on,” he said, both of them smiling widely as their eyes connected again.

“Dean,” she said thoughtfully, “I wonder if your upbringing has clouded the way you see gender roles. I understand that most of the wait staff in restaurants tends to be female. And I also understand that you didn’t have a traditional home life. It wasn’t a parent who brought your meals to the table, it was a waitress. So, do you think that perhaps you see women in general as being cast in the role of someone who is there to serve you? Does that play into the way you think of them when they eagerly welcome your sexual advances?”

“Are you askin’ if an overexposure to waitresses has made me sexist?”

“Perhaps. Mostly what I’m wondering about is the possibility that you don’t find women in general to be a challenge in the field of sexual conquest because on some level you perceive them as being there to serve you. Maybe just taking what you want from them without any emotional connection has become convenient over the years and thus you quickly discard them for the men who seem more complex and challenging.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “You’re saying that I take what’s easy ‘cause it fits in my life, but deep down I really want a challenge?”

“Perhaps.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I mean, yeah, it can be more fun if I have to work for it a little. But, back when I was on the road all the time, there wasn’t really time for the long game, if ya know what I mean.”

Mildred grinned at him, her cheeks rosy and her eyes sparkling. She liked him as much as he liked her, that was obvious. And despite her attempts to remain professional, he could see that she enjoyed hearing about his sex life. “Are male conquests more challenging to you?”

“Nope. Not in the least. Sometimes we don’t even speak. I give a dude the look, or he gives me the look, and we head for the bathroom. Or the alley out back. Doesn’t much matter. But back when I was on the road there weren’t many men. Even something quick and dirty was usually too risky with my dad around.”

“So, not only were men your preference, they were forbidden fruit?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Would it be fair to say that coming here was liberating for you in a way, because you were free to indulge that side of your sexuality?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Well then, let me ask you this - Have you ever met anyone who intrigued you beyond the physical? Someone who stimulated you in a non-sexual way?”

“Yeah, there have been  a few over the years.”

“And what became of them?”

“Nothin’ much. I mean, there have definitely been a few that I wanted more time with, but it wasn’t in the cards. Sometimes I’d luck out and get a few days, maybe a week, but that’s about the best a guy like me can hope for anyway.”

“Because you’re a liar?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, hating it. “Yeah. I’m a liar.”

“We all tell lies, Dean. Every single one of us. It’s part of the human condition.”

“Well, the kind of person I’d want to keep around,” he clarified, “is a person that deserves better than me. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“Perhaps it’s truer to say that they deserve a better version of you. A more honest one?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Maybe someday you’ll be ready to be that better version of yourself.”

“And then all my dreams will come true?” he shot back, mostly joking. Deflecting.

“What dreams do you have, Dean?” she pressed, ignoring his sarcasm.

“Are you asking me my goals in life? Or are you asking me about my actual dreams?”

“Either. Which would you like to discuss?”

“Well, I had a mother of a fucking daydream the other day. Kinda freaked me out,” he admitted. She’d won his respect already, even in the short time they’ve been talking. So, he decided to lay it on her.

“You were conscious when you had this daydream?”

“Yeah. I was workin’ a private party and this dude was makin’ a naughty nurse give him ememas. Like, one after another. I was tryin’ not to watch ‘cause, well, I didn’t wanna see. But he wanted me to blow a load on his face and started suckin’ me off. There was no way I was gonna come lookin’ at him, so I shut my eyes and started picturing this hot guy I’d seen in the Gallery. We were gettin’ it on in my car-

“So, in your fantasy, you were in the car your father gave you?”

“Yeah. I was drivin’ down a country road at night, saw a hitchhiker and picked him up. It was the dude from the Gallery. He started givin’ me road head while I drove and I had to pull over, but I wound up parkin’ at the motel where my dad was stayin’. I knew which window was his room so when I saw the light in that room come on, I was scared he was gonna come out and catch me gettin’ it on with a guy. I told the guy to stop but he wouldn’t. He kept goin’ and goin’ and it felt so fuckin’ good. And he said I should let my dad see us and I kind of agreed to it. I let him keep goin’ and when I was about to come I was thinkin’ about my dad. Said the word Dad. That’s what really freaked me out, I mean, I actually said the word ‘daddy’ when I came and it scared the fuck out of me.”

“Do you normally say words like dad and daddy when you’re getting off?”

“No, not normally.”

“Do the customers like you to say it?”

“Some of them do, yeah, and the guy who won my auction that day had been into the daddy kink so I guess it had been kinda fresh in my head.”

“Dean, there are some obvious implications in this fantasy, especially since this wasn’t a subconscious dream. Can you you take a guess at what this particular daydream might imply about you and your life?”

“Dunno,” he said thoughtfully. He hadn’t expected her to turn the question back on him, he’d expected her to give him a rundown on the symbology of dreams and then reassure him that there was nothing unhealthy or unusual about what his mind had conjured up that day. He took a deep breath and tried to look at it from an outsider's viewpoint. “Maybe that just because he’s far away from me, doesn’t mean he can’t find out how I live? Or maybe it’s just that I know he’ll eventually find out and that knowing that is ruining my fantasy? Am I on the right track?”

“Those seem viable, yes.”

“You want me to think of more, don’t you.”

“I do.”

“Why can’t I hear what you think? I mean, I’ve never volunteered anything to a shrink before. You’re the first one I’ve ever even liked. Cut me a break, doc, give me an outsiders opinion.”

“An outsiders opinion is meaningless. What you think is what matters, Dean. Now, you’ve said that this hitchhiker was trying to convince you to let your father see. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“And in the end, you agreed to that?”

“Yeah.”

“And then you climaxed?”

“Yeah.”

“Dean. Can you think of another implication of this daydream?”

Ugh. The answer was so fucking obvious now that he kind of hated having brought this up at all. “I got it,” he said, hoping to close the subject.

“You’ve got what?”

“I know what you’re getting at. I’m good.”

“Okay, what am I getting at?”

“You really gonna make me say it, doc?”

“I’m really gonna,” she said with an indulgent smile, copying his pattern of speech.

“It means that deep down inside, I want him to know. It means that I want to come out to him.”

“That’s possible,” she agreed, still smiling. “I guess if you know what you want, then it’s really just a matter of deciding when and how to do it, right?”

“Right,” he chuckled, “and that’s what deathbeds are for.”

“Did you have anything else you’d like to discuss today Dean?”

“I guess not,” he said, getting to his feet. “Thanks for your time, doc.”

“If you don’t mind,” she said, aborting his attempt to exit, “I have some routine questions regarding your general health and well being that I’d like to cover before you leave.”

“Fine,” he groaned, flopping back into the chair.

“Do you feel safe in your working environment?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you feel that those who provide services to you here are competent in their duties?”

“You mean people like you, sweetheart?”

“I am part of the medical services staff,” she clarified, “but please don’t think of me when answering these questions. Think of the staff members that you interact with on a daily basis. The medical staff includes the doctors and nursing staff as well as the nursing support staff. You are also provided services by the dietary staff, the cosmetology staff, the security staff, and even the janitorial staff. Do you feel that they are all competent in their respective duties?”

“Yeah.”

“Specifically in regards to the dietary staff, do you have any concerns regarding the quality or nutritional content of the food being served to you?”

“No.”

“What about the cleanliness of the staff, the handling of food, or the availability of food?”

“No.”

“It’s my understanding that you are only offered food every fourth and fifth day. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, we don’t eat on working days. Is this going to take much longer?”

“We’ll breeze through this section quickly, I promise. So, Dean, do you suffer any adverse effects on the days when food is not offered to you?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“When you do eat, do you find that you are satisfied with the food?”

“Yes.”

“Do foods that you eat here ever taste different than when you eat them at other locations?”

“I’m not sure what that even means. C’mon Mildred, a burger at McDonalds isn’t gonna taste the same as one from Burger King. Yeah, some stuff tastes different here. Is that really what you’re asking?”

“No. I’m asking if you ever question the food you’re being served. Does it ever taste tainted or foul?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then, in regards to the medical staff, excluding myself, do you ever feel that those caring for you do not have your best interests at heart?”

“Nah, the nurses here are awesome.”

“What about the medical doctors?”

“I’ve only seen one. He was fine.”

“Have you ever been denied medical care?”

“Nope.”

“Have you ever been medicated without your informed consent?”

“Damn, you sound like a robot,” he chuckled. “Seriously, are all these questions really necessary?”

“Yes, Dean, but I’m trying to hurry through them for you. Your answers are actually quite important, so if you could please try to be thoughtful and honest, I’d appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

“Again, Dean, have you ever been medicated without your informed consent?”

“No, Doc, no one’s ever held me down and shoved pills down my throat.”

“Consent issues can be tricky. Let me explain. If someone gives you an injection but doesn’t tell you what you’re being injected with, then you weren’t informed. You may have consented to the injection by holding out your arm, or nodding your head, but your consent was not informed. With that in mind, I’ll ask again. Dean, have you ever been medicated without your informed consent?”

“Yeah, I guess, but never to the point where I’d complain about it.”

“Can you give me an example?”

“Like, when we get tested for STD’s, I don’t think I’ve ever actually been told what I have when I test positive for something. They just tell me I’ve got something and give me pills or a shot or whatever. But I guess that seems normal to me. I mean, we get so many pills and shots around here that I can see how the nurses would get tired of constantly goin’ over all the details.”

“I see,” she nodded, jotting down some notes.

Feeling like he should clarify, Dean added, “It’s not like I’ve asked, ya know. I mean, I could’ve asked for details if I really wanted to know. They don’t really say and I don’t really ask about it. Seems like that’s prob’ly on me.”

“Alright,” she nodded, moving on to the next question. “Are you given any daily pills like vitamins or nutritional supplements?”

“Yeah, whenever we go through the buffet, we stop at the cash register and give our number. They pull up our chart and hand us our pills. I'm assuming they make a note that we've eaten and taken pills, but I've never really watched to see.”

“Does anyone verify that you’ve taken your pills or monitor your dietary intake?”

“Yeah, we always have a handler eating with us. They carry the tray for us, and I know they take notes. I don’t think it’s real specific, maybe they're just keeping track of whether we clean the plate? I'm not really sure how all that works. I just know they're paying attention.”

“I see. And when you take the pills you’re given, do you ever wonder what they are?”

“Nah, like you said, they’re just vitamins and shit.”

“Alright. Thank you for being patient. I know these questions can be a bit tedious.”

“Anything for you,” he winked.

Turning the page, she gave him a soft smile and continued by saying, “Because you are one of the Relationship Managers who live at this facility as part of the Stay & Play program, you are the resident of a company dormitory. That means a few additional questions. Do you feel safe at all times in the dormitory?

“Sure.”

“Have you ever been the victim of unwelcome touching in a dormitory?”

Smiling indulgently at her, he answered by saying, “I love the way you keep calling it a dormitory. I sleep in a cage. It’s for my protection, I know. But it’s still a cage. College kids live in a dormitory. Sammy lives in a dormitory. Me? I’m a whore. I sleep in a cage.”

Dean thought Mildred looked a bit taken aback by his comparison, but she didn’t pause to  debate his use of the word ‘whore’ as she’d done earlier in the session. She simply pressed on by repeating her question. “Dean, have you ever been the victim of unwelcome touching in a dormitory?” Seemingly in hindsight, she added, “or in a cage?”

“No.”

“Is your cage metal or plexiglass?” she asked. Then, she leaned forward and softly said, “That’s not an official question. I’m just curious.”

“It’s metal,” he answered.

“How big is it?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “It’s like, the size of a regular bed. Queen size maybe?”

“It has bars?”

“Yeah. Wait, haven’t you ever been in there?”

“No one tours the dormitories, Dean. The company forbids it. Officially, the area is off limits to protect the privacy of those living there.”

“Oh, okay. That seems fair.”

“Is it comfortable?” she asked, clearly doubting it possibly could be.

“Oh yeah,” he said with a firm nod. “It’s way better than the ratty mattresses in the dive motels I was sleepin’ in before I came here.”

“Good,” she said with a warm smile. Then, closing up her file folder, she looked across the desk at him and said, “Alright Dean, I think that’s it for today.”

They both stood up, Dean stretched his legs as Mildred walked around the desk to him. He looked down when she extended her hand and saw that she was passing him a business card. As he took it, she was saying, “you’ll have another appointment in six months. But, if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you. And I do mean anytime; just ask them to add an appointment to your schedule.”

“Thanks. You’re way better than the last guy, by the way.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah, what happened to him anyway?”

“Mr. Adler? He’s leaving the company so his patients are being re-assigned. You’ll be with me going forward.”

“Awesome,” he said, turning towards the sound of the door. It was opening and a nursing assistant was stepping in. She came forward and began hooking a lead to his collar. “The robe stays here,” she said softly. Turning to Mildred, Dean smirked and made a show of sliding the robe slowly off his shoulders behind him. “I bet you love this part, don’tcha,” he teased, letting the soft cotton fall to the floor behind him.

Pointing towards her certifications which were framed neatly on the adjacent wall, he then said, “You gotta keep your hands off the goods if you wanna keep those, right? But you can look all ya like.”

She laughed heartily at his joke. Her eyes dipped down for a brief moment as if to check out his naked body and then she gave him a humorously exaggerated wink of approval. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually felt good about a six month review. She’d been far more attentive and insightful than Zachariah had ever been. She was fun and flirty without being overtly sexual and seemed to actually care about his issues. In just this one single session, she had helped tremendously.

Once his arms were free of the robe, his cuffs were linked to the lead. He was then guided out of the medical facility and back to the residential section. Finally, it was time to check out of the facility. Even on good days, the process could be time consuming. But this time it was a pain in the ass, mostly because of the timing. Normally, leaving the compound is something one does when it’s a required resting day or pre-requested time off. The process begins with waking and a trip to the salon. Usually, he’s anxious to eat so he does that as well. Enduring diaper changes is part of that process but as far as Dean’s concerned, it’s better to get that over with here than to try and deal with it out in the real world. After all of that, exiting the compound generally consisted of signing some papers at the main desk while being reminded of the do’s and don’ts. There was also a standard search conducted to be sure that nothing unapproved was being removed from the grounds.

Tonight however, he had to get his blood tested too. He wasn’t supposed to leave until his hormones hit a certain level. He repeated the test twice over a period of ninety minutes before his results finally showed him in an acceptable range. By the time he exited into the parking garage, it was after ten. The weather was cool and damp but refreshing, normal for springtime.

When he started her up, his baby rumbled pleasingly beneath him. The sound and feel were slightly erotic to him, but that was probably just the lingering effects of the shot. Everything would be sensual for a while. His pecker was still a bit chubby too. It wasn’t demanding attention, but his awareness of it was noticeably elevated.

With his laptop and cell phone on the seat next to him, Dean backed out of his space and headed down the ramp. Passing the security guard at the exit, Dean slowed so the guy could read his parking permit and then accelerated again once he was waived on.

Out on the street, he headed for the interstate, opting to weave around the back of the facility rather than sit through the heavy, slow moving traffic that swarmed near the customer entrance.

Popping a cassette into the tape deck, he cranked up the radio and sang along with Deep Purple as he made his way east. Checking his rear view mirror frequently to be sure no one was following him, Dean left the city behind. Exiting on an unfamiliar ramp into one of the many adjacent suburbs, he navigated his baby into a truck stop. Being out in the real world was sobering and without the constant titillation of the brothel around him, his head was growing clearer.

Pulling an old ball cap from the back seat, Dean headed inside. Passing up the snack foods and cheap souvenirs, he grabbed a prepaid cell phone from the display and took it to the register. He paid cash for the item and left. Farther down the road, he pulled into the parking lot of a bowling alley and activated the new phone. Then, still sitting in his car, Dean placed a call.

Of course, he got voicemail.

“Hey Dad, it’s me. I just wanted to give ya a heads up that big brother’s steppin’ up their game. Hope you’re layin’ low. Call my other, other cell if ya need to get in touch. I won't have a signal tomorrow, but after that I should be free for a couple days. No meet ups. There’s a bloodhound on my trail.”

Once he hung up, he put in a call to Sammy’s other, other cell. This time, he got an answer. “Dean?”

“Yeah Sammy it’s me. How ya doin’?”

“I’m okay,” he answered, his voice tight with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Then what is it?” he pressed. “Why are you calling this number?”

“Cause I had a little run-in with the feds. I tried to call Dad but I got voicemail. If he checks in, will you let him know what’s goin’ on?”

“Sure, Dean, of course. What kind of run-in? Did they take you in?”

“Not yet. They’re just kickin’ over rocks tryin’ to find Dad. It’s safe to say they’ve applied some pressure. Look, I gotta go Sammy, just tell Dad it’s time to go deep, ok?”

“How deep, Dean? Are we talkin’ lay low for a while... or full-on disappear?”

“He should go to Yemen.”

“What about you? You’ve got warrants.”

“I do, but if they wanted me, they coulda taken me. I think they’re hopin’ I’ll lead them to him. That means no meet-ups, no direct calls, you know the drill.”

“If I hear from him, I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks Sammy. How’s school goin’?”

Over the crackle of a shitty network connection, Dean heard his brother’s soft chuckle. “Since when do you do small talk?” challenged Sam.

“Fair point,” he conceded.

“Take care of yourself, Jerk.”

“You too, Bitch.”

And that was it. Now that he’d done all he could do for his father, it was time to think about himself. Tossing the ratty ball cap into the back seat, Dean locked up his baby and headed into the bowling alley. On his way to the door, Dean pulled the battery from his newly acquired Tracfone. Mangling the unit as best he could with his bare hands, he then dropped both pieces into a deep puddle as he stepped over it. Then, with that done, he set his sights on a drink.

Entering, Dean headed straight for the bar and made sure that there were at least two empty stools on both sides of him as he sidled up to the bar. He wasn’t here to socialize; he was here to think things through. He ordered a shot of whiskey and downed it before the bartender even stepped away. Motioning for the man to pour another, Dean grimaced when he felt the liquid slip down into his stomach. It gurgled as he sat there with a thumb and two fingers on the refilled glass. Fuck. He could feel his guts twisting.

Getting up from the stool, Dean debated just downing the second shot. But, in the end, he left it and went straight to the men’s room.

Barreling in, he shoved his way into the first stall that had a door and twisted the lock. Panting as he clenched his butt cheeks together, Dean worked his belt and zipper with shaky fingers. The second he was able, he shoved his pants to his knees and dropped to the toilet seat without even checking to see if it was clean.

“Fu-uck,” he groaned, dropping his forehead into his palm. His body emptied itself quite efficiently and there was nothing to do but just breathe through it. His forehead was sweaty by the time he’d finished. When he exited the washroom his drink was still there but he didn’t want it anymore. Easing himself back onto the stool, he rested his eyes on the television that hung over one end of the bar. Around him the low thunder of bowling balls, the clunk and clatter of falling pins, even the din of voices and laughter slowly faded into background noise. The television screen grew blurry as his eyes glazed over and his thoughts turned inward to consider his options.

He could leave if he wanted to. He could leave right now and go as deep underground as he’d just urged his father to go. Doing so would mean leaving the brothel, but he wouldn’t be empty handed. His wages were all electronically deposited into his accounts. A small percentage of his income was always deposited into his checking account, earmarked for incidentals and spending money. That  was money he could access immediately if necessary simply by using his debit card.

The lion's share of his income was automatically divided between a savings account and a retirement account. Those balances were considerable, but they were inaccessible to him at this moment. He wasn’t worried about his money, though, because the accounts were legitimate. His money would stay put, even if Dean didn’t. It would even grow with the interest it earned.  

So, if he wanted to go underground, he could just pull out the balance in his checking account. That would give him plenty of seed money… far more than he’d ever had in his pocket before he started hooking. If he left, he’d have to be careful going forward though, because he wouldn’t be able to access his money without giving away his location.

But, if he did leave, where would he go? What would he do?

Dean had always assumed that if he left the brothel, it would be to return to the hunting life with his father. But at this point, that was out of the realm of possibility. He couldn't safely make contact with the old man now. Even calling him was risky… meeting up with him? Stupid. He’d be doing exactly what the authorities wanted him to do; he’d be leading them to John Winchester.

If he couldn’t meet up with his father, that left Dean with only three real options if he left the brothel. He could return to hunting - alone, he could forget about both hunting and hooking - just go on the run like a fugitive, or he could go to California - and pay his brother a visit as he tries to decide what to do.

Even as he was considering his options, Dean was already thinking of reasons not to leave. First of all, he wasn’t a target right now. What he’d said to his brother had been the truth. If the feds had wanted him, they would have taken him. But, they didn’t. They’re not after him, they’re after John Winchester. He’s the big fish.

Now that they’ve picked Dean’s brain for information, their most logical move was to sit back and watch him… hope that he would eventually lead them to his father. If he stayed, there would be no way he could inadvertently do that.

So, yeah, the more he thought about it, choice was easy. He might as well stay put and keep on living his life. Hell, the feds could even raid his locker and tap his phone if they wanted to - it wouldn’t matter because John wouldn’t be calling it.

Dean had set out to do two things when he’d exited the compound. The first had been to warn his father and the second had been to figure out what action he needed to take next. Having now done both, he let his eyes fall away from the television screen. Looking down at the small glass that he was absentmindedly rolling between his thumb and forefinger, Dean chuckled. He hadn’t taken even a sip. Why bother, right? It would go straight through, and it wouldn’t be pleasant.

Pushing the liquid away, Dean got up from his stool. There was no point in being here anymore. At this point, he was ready to head back to the facility. But on the way there, he might as well have a little fun, right? Looking around the tiny bar area, Dean checked out the local wildlife. Seeing nothing promising, he tossed down a few bills for the drinks and left.

Checking his phone, Dean found a gay bar two exits down and headed that way. Parking once more, he headed inside. Upon entering, he walked right past the bar and out onto the dancefloor. He didn’t really dance, just bobbed his head to the beat as he passed through the sea of writhing bodies, meeting eyes with everyone he brushed against until there was a spark. The one who invoked it was a bit of a surprise, more of a bear than Dean usually went for. But, when their eyes met, it was undeniable. They were both interested.

Continuing on, Dean threaded through the churning bodies and towards the back. When he reached the back wall, he felt a hand on his back guiding him to the left and smirked as he was steered towards the men’s room. He didn’t look behind him as he pushed through the door, but his eye caught glimpses of the man trailing him when he moved past the bank of mirrors over the long row of sinks. The man’s eyes were hungry and his shoulders were broad, and Dean’s asshole gave a little twinge to let him know it was on board.

Between his legs, Dean’s dick seconded the motion. It was still plump in his jeans which was kind of an odd feeling. Normally when he was about to fuck, he would be at full attention and wearing a cock ring. Reaching his destination, the stalls, Dean paused momentarily as his eyes searched for one that was empty. Finding one, he headed straight for it. Stepping inside, he was crowded up against the wall as his new friend pushed in behind him.

“Ya wanna bump?” the guy offered, pulling coke from his pocket.

“Not what I came in here for,” Dean answered, reaching down to cup the man’s package through his pants. _Yes,_ he thought, _this dude is packin’._

In an instant he was being roughly spun around, and he couldn’t help but smile as he was thrown forward against the side of the stall. Thrilled with how this was playing out, Dean pushed his ass back against the heavy man and groaned as he felt the stranger’s hands slide around his waist. Keeping his palms against the wall, Dean let the other man do the work of unbuttoning and unzipping him. As it was happening, he could feel his own dick starting to turn over and straighten inside his briefs. A moment later, cool fingers were digging down into the warm, moist cotton that cradled him. They wrapped around his shaft and pulled it out for him, calloused fingers teasing at his cock head for a moment as Dean’s shaft quickly expanded to fill the man’s palm.

Between his cheeks, Dean was flooding with wetness as his lust spiked heavily. Around him, other stall doors clunked open and shut, toilets flushed, men talked and laughed. Through the walls, the muted thump-thump-thump of base was bleeding in from the dancefloor beyond.

Dean arched his back as he enjoyed the feel of a heavy hand starting to jack his cock. The weight of the man behind him was pushing forward now, the outline of a dick pressing across Dean’s butt cheeks at an odd angle. Seeking more, he pushed his ass back into it and rolled his hips.

Suddenly, his cock was abandoned as two hands shot to his waist and rucked down his jeans. Dean shifted his weight from side to side, encouraging his pants to keep sliding down even as his ass was hauled up and back. His chest pitched forward against the wall and he turned his face to the side as he was held there forcefully. This rough treatment was doing something for him and pre-cum beaded heavily at his tip.

“Goddamn,” barked the man behind him, as he spread Dean’s cheeks.

He knew he must be a sight, his hole artfully manicured and ripe for the taking, juicy and wet. “That’s right buddy,” he said with a smirk, “it’s your lucky night.”

The sound of the man’s zipper coming down made Dean’s mouth water. “Bullshit,” said the man behind him as he pressed a fat cock to Dean’s crack, “You feel all that? I think it’s your lucky night.”

Feeling the weight of that dick, Dean couldn’t help but agree. His hips bucked when fingers slid into him, two of them, followed immediately by a third. Rolling his hips as he was finger fucked open, Dean tried to keep quiet. He bit his lip. He turned his face to the inside of his arm. But when those wriggling, exploratory fingers were traded for a hard dick, Dean gasped aloud and began panting as he was breached.

Pushing back against the man’s weight, Dean felt his rim straining as it was spread too wide, too fast. Slippery, though, his body welcomed the intrusion and despite the searing pain, it slid right in. It went deep too, so deep that Dean could fucking feel it in his knees.

His body bowed as it was filled up, and his legs tried to spread wider but couldn’t because his jeans were still wrapped around his knees.

Gritting his teeth as the man pulled back without a moment to adjust, Dean leaned into the wall and tried to ignore the burning sensation in his rim and focus on the carnal, lascivious feel of that wide cock being dragged almost all the way back out of him. He loved the way his muscle clung to the flesh of it, needy and wanting, holding onto the intrusion greedily.

When it plunged back in, a strange mewling sound rose up in the back of his throat and repeated several times as he used the strength of his arms to push back from the wall and seat himself squarely onto that beast of a cock.

Pitched forward again and again by the bigger man humping him from behind, Dean continually drove himself back, working up a sweat as he bore down heavily on that meaty cock. They built speed quickly and it was a wild ride, the low-cost aluminum stall around them practically shaking apart as their weight and momentum tested the limits of its durability.

This stranger fucked Dean exactly the way he wanted tonight - mercilessly.

Between his legs, Dean’s own cock was snapping up and down as he went to town, a near constant string of pre-cum flopping from his tip. Every time it broke and fell away, another began slipping out in its place.  The promise of an impending orgasm had just begun to creep up on him when Dean’s partner suddenly stuttered and came. The man clenched him tightly as he pumped a load up into him, locking their sweaty bodies together and immobilizing Dean completely until he’d finished. He gave a few small, abortive pumps as he rode his pleasure at Dean’s back and when the man pulled out, the slippery load he’d just taken immediately began rolling back out. Dean was left with an aching cock that was still fiery red and leaking profusely, utterly unfulfilled.  

“Oh yeah,” groaned the man, trailing his finger over Dean’s gaping hole to play with his creampie.

“M’not done,” Dean said over his shoulder. “Ya got a buddy you can send in?”

Tucking himself away, the man shoved Dean’s ass to the side so he could open the door. Then, as he stepped out of the stall, he called out to everyone in the bathroom, “Any takers for sloppy seconds?”

Too dizzy with lust to be properly irritated or embarrassed, Dean simply plastered on his most cocky grin as curious men began to gather and peek in at him. He looked out at them, not really seeing the details of their faces but rather with a general awareness of them as interested parties. They were strangers, but they probably wanted what he did. To fuck.

When they began to encroach, Dean stood there, still bent forward a bit with his pants down around his knees and tried to choose one. His hole was sopping wet and so was the head of his aching dick. He needed a release desperately and though the last guy had gotten him close, he wasn’t there yet. Empty inside, he couldn’t wait another second. He also didn’t want to have to choose. So, instead of trying to pick one, he simply addressed them all as he shouted, “Line up boys, I’m gonna go all night.”

In response, a collective cheer went up and the men surged forward, pushing and shoving towards the front. When one managed to grapple his way into the stall, he said, “I’m Paul.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Dean sneered, shoving his hands down to undo the man’s fly.

The excited banter among those waiting was both approving of him and disparaging of him at the same time but Dean didn’t pay much attention other than to be aware that he was the center of attention right now. No matter what they said aloud, every single one of these men wanted a fucking piece of him and Dean knew why. He was a hot piece of ass.  

As the new man’s jeans fell from his hips, the two of them moved to accommodate one another in their small space. By silent agreement, they left the door of the stall open. Dean bent down and tugged off a shoe, eager to at least get one leg free of his jeans. As he did so, the new guy was giving his cock a few pulls to get it ready. Once again assuming the position, Dean took a deep breath as he leaned forward against the wall again. His new friend was immediately shoving in from behind. It was impossible to keep quiet with spectators cheering them on, so Dean went ahead and let loose. He moaned wantonly as the two of them sank into it, enjoying the freedom of finally being able to spread his legs as wide as he wanted while he took it. They quickly built up speed together as he shouted instructions and encouragement over his shoulder, one hand steadily jerking himself off as he was fucked hard and fast.

One by one, others entered the stall in turn. Each did their worst, climaxed, and then retreated as some of their spend dribbled back out of him. His mind was a hazy blur of carnal excitement as he chased orgasm after orgasm. He paid no mind to the ache in his back, the dryness in his throat, or the ribbons of opaque fluid that trickled down his inner thighs. But, at one point, he did become vaguely aware that the power behind his orgasms was diminishing as they grew numerous.

As usual, he was overcome by the urge to seek another and another, to get off as many times as he could before finally passing out. But, on some level, Dean’s mind was flailing to catch his attention. It was as if there were a small voice urgently calling to him from a great distance - barely audible. He didn’t want to pay attention, but he knew that he had to.

No matter how much fun he was having now, he’d be a fool to forget that he wasn’t being looked after here. If he passed out, there would be no one to gently haul him away and clean him up, massage his aching muscles or see him safely to a comfortable bed. Anything could happen to him if he lost consciousness in this place.

The best case scenario would be waking stiff and sore and filthy on the nasty floor of this bathroom and having to drag himself back to the facility looking and smelling like he’d been gang raped in an alley. It was hard to even imagine the worst case, but it probably involved waking up shackled in some psycho’s basement.

The thought was sobering, even if it was only entertained in some small corner of his mind. So, as his orgasms began to loose their punch, Dean fought the instinct to call out for two at a time. Instead, while he still had the ability to fight if he needed to, Dean yelled that the next guy would be the last.

Turning away from the wall for his last fuck, Dean pushed the new man down onto the toilet when he entered. Crawling into his lap, Dean positioned himself over the man’s ready cock and easily sank down onto him. Groaning as he was once again filled, Dean found that changing positions had helped renew his body’s interest - this fresh angle bringing back anticipatory tingles that had long ago gone numb while he’d been braced against the wall and repeatedly defiled.

This last guy was well endowed. Ruggedly handsome too, with the exception of an unfortunate haircut. He reached around Dean’s thighs and encircled him, lifting as Dean leaned back so as to assist in thrusting and bear some of the workload. Thrilled to have his last fuck be such a good one, Dean quickly became vocal as he was maneuvered up and down on this perfect stranger’s dick. He could feel his rim spreading wide over the base of it each time his weight was lowered and his stomach curled in anticipation when the carnal pleasure began building steadily at his core.

Giving himself over completely, Dean threw his head back and lifted his legs. Resting his calves on the man’s shoulders, Dean let his body tip back even further. The man beneath him tightened his grip on Dean to keep him from pitching over backwards and from that position, Dean was able to use his legs to assist with their thrusting, leveraging himself against the man’s strong shoulders.

Once they had a good rhythm going, Dean let his head fall the rest of the way back and opened his glassy eyes to watch the spectators as he was ravished. They were upside down to him, and the effect was dizzying and wild. It heightened his pleasure.

With multiple climaxes under his belt, Dean’s dick had mostly gone limp with no cock ring to keep it stiff. But, he could still feel it rolling around between his legs in varying stages of plumpness as he artfully rode the dick on which he was impaled.

Closing in on the climax, Dean began calling out that he was close. The upside down faces of his audience grinned ferally as they touched themselves and eagerly egged him on. Grunting with the effort of bouncing Dean on his cock, his partner began falling out of their perfect rhythm.

Swinging one leg down from the man’s shoulder, Dean put his left foot to the floor because it was the one that still had a shoe on. Finding purchase there, he was able to support his own weight and share the workload.  He was breathing heavily, they both were, sweaty and straining as they approached the end together.

As their slow and steady build suddenly sped up and swept over him, Dean felt his stomach turn a somersault. His body went rigid as it happened, incapable of coordinated movement as the rising swell of endorphins overtook him. Every cell in his body was ringing and vibrating in that moment. His exhausted pecker even managed to pulse  out a few more drops of cum as it happened.

When the best of his moment had come and gone, Dean opened his eyes and started moving again. Holding out for the man beneath him, Dean kept going until they’d both come. Watching unabashedly, Dean couldn’t help but grin at the man’s facial expressions as he found momentary bliss. When those clenched eyes fluttered back open again, Dean was surprised to find himself being hauled back upright and embraced tightly. Since they were both sweaty and sticky, the makeshift hug was less than comfortable. But Dean found it endearing.

In the aftermath, they peeled apart and Dean was surprised by how decent the man was, helping him to his feet and announcing to the small crowd of onlookers that the show was over now. Closing the stall door as the audience begrudgingly dispersed, both of them began wriggling back into their pants. “That was insane,” his partner whispered,  “What’s your name, man?”

“No names,” Dean replied, pulling his shoe back on. “This was a one-off.”

“That’s too bad. You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“You can come see me at Hell’s Angels then,” Dean told him, giving the name of his establishment, “but it’ll cost ya.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” grinned the companionable stranger, resting his hand on Dean’s shoulder for a second when he stepped out.

Dean followed, pausing at the sinks to wash his sticky hands. Doing the same next to him, the nameless man didn’t even seem put off by the fact that Dean had just admitted to being an honest-to-god whore. His face remained open and friendly while they cleaned up, his glances at Dean conveying a sense of approval that was both unexpected and strangely reassuring.

Using a wet paper towel to dab his sweaty face and gritty neck, Dean ignored the pointed stares of those who still watched them.

There was nothing he could do about the disgusting mess in his underwear and it was getting worse by the second. So he turned and left with his only hope being that he might get out of the club before the wetness had a chance to soak through the thick denim.

Pushing through the crowded bar, Dean ignored the siren call of alcohol. He could come back tomorrow and get wasted if he wanted to, but for tonight it was best to avoid anything that might make a bigger mess in his pants.

The bottle-fed juice given out at the brothel was a gift from the gods when it was fuck time. But it was damned inconvenient when a guy had his mind on almost any non sexual desire… especially eating and drinking. A few sips of water between lays? Not a problem. A shot of whiskey or a glass of beer, however, was a huge problem… a gut-punching, asshole-burning problem.

When he finally got back to his car, Dean was cautious about sliding in behind the wheel. Already his hole was protesting movement of any kind, stinging and sore and aching with abuse. At this point, so much was pooled between his cheeks that when he lowered himself gingerly to the seat, it felt like he’d sat down in a dirty diaper. It was so disgusting that he physically cringed as he slowly settled his weight into the warm and sticky mess of it.

He’d been foolish to do what he’d done and he knew it. But, feeling satisfied now, it was hard to regret any of it. Thankfully, though several men had stayed to watch his big finish, none had attempted to press for more or take him against his will. He owed that last guy a favor for helping him put an end to the gang bang, and, at this moment, was starting to feel guilty for so bluntly refusing to exchange names.

Resting behind the wheel for a bit, he listened to Zep as he came down from the incredible rush of having engaged in some raunchy public sex. Then, as the music played on, Dean navigated out of the parking lot and back towards the interstate. With the hour having grown late, it was now too cold to have his window rolled all the way down. He did leave it cracked though, enjoying the refreshing effect of cool air ghosting over his skin and through his hair. He sang along with Robert Plant as he drove and when he finally made it back to the facility, Dean found his legs feeling a bit stronger.

For some reason, though, he was reluctant to get up and go inside. Sitting in his parked car, Dean wanted nothing more than to clean up the unholy slop he was sitting in. But the walk ahead was daunting to him. Even just sitting here, the pain radiating from between his cheeks was substantial. Every step he was about to take would bring a measure of agony, especially since the raw tissue around his rim would be wet with salty spunk as he made his way inside.

It was strange, but he’d noticed that the after effects of a rough fuck were much more noticeable in the outside world than were back home in the facility. The only explanation he could conjure was that the TLC lavished on him in the salon made a huge difference in how he was left feeling when the heat of the moment had faded.

The unwelcome sensation of a giant cream pie cooling against his skin was what finally gave Dean the incentive to get up and get moving. Slowly and carefully, he got to his feet, locked up his car, and hobbled back inside. Thankfully, there was no one else around as he made his way back to the main building, and he was free to just focus on getting there, rather than on having to grit his teeth and try to walk like his asshole wasn’t on fucking fire right now.

Checking back in was a pain in the ass, as usual, but when his physical state had been noted, Dean was offered the use of the salon. He accepted gratefully and then tried to be patient as he waited for a handler to be summoned. Stripping down when prompted, he tossed his sullied clothes into the plastic bag provided and signed its contents over to the in-house laundry service. His shoes were held for him at the desk along with his wallet, keys, phone, and laptop.

Led to the salon, Dean found himself being deposited at Charlie’s station. “It’s my lucky night,” he said with a genuine smile.

Taking in his appearance with a raised eyebrow, she said, “Yeah, I can see that. Where’d ya go?”

“Some club east of here.”

“The Spin?” she asked, probably trying to figure out where he’d been.

“Don’t remember,” he confessed, following the gesture of her hand to position himself over the drain in the floor. Letting his eyes drift shut as he waited for her to turn on the water, he asked, “How ya been?”

“Pretty good,” she answered. “Temperature okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed softly, as a light stream of water sprinkled over his thigh. “Maybe a little hotter,” he added, then, “What’cha been up to?”

“Oh not much really. Went to a reproductive rights fund-raiser the other night.”

“Didja hook up?”

“Aw, aren’t you precious,” she teased, walking a circle around him as she rinsed his body. “Of course I did. It’s not even a question.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Yeah. I’ve got a march coming up this weekend too. Everyone’s coming over tomorrow to make signs and stuff.”

“What’s the cause?”

“We’re pushing for a return to the federal and state run court system with some revisions to the process.”

“I thought that system was flawed… corrupt… only beneficial to the rich. Isn’t that why they revamped it in the first place?”

“Well, yeah,” she answered, “but the new system is just tainted with a different kind of corruption. And you wouldn’t think it, but the rich still have a huge advantage.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hey, do you want a douche?” she asked, pausing with her hand on the bottle of soap.

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

Reaching for a little kit in lieu of the soap, she began opening it as she answered his question. “Think about it, Dean, we all have to declare allegiance to some religion and then subject ourselves to its morals and judgements.”

“Always seemed fair to me,” he countered. “I mean, if you’re not a believer, then you choose to be atheist or join the church of the non-declared. It’s not like we actually have to put on funny hats or even attend services, we’re just labeling ourselves based on what we believe, even if what we believe is that we don’t wanna believe.”

“It works in theory,” she agreed. “Especially since we’re all held accountable for our actions based on our own beliefs rather than someone else’s. But Dean, where do churches get their money?”

“Donations, I guess.”

“Okay, so how are they supposed to be impartial during court proceedings and sentencing when they’re beholden to their biggest donors?”

“Fair point, Red, I’d never really thought about that before.”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, the actual punishments haven’t been fitting the crimes. At least, not in the cases of the super-wealthy.”

“I haven’t been noticing much,” he confessed, hating to admit it. “I mean, I skim the headlines on my days off, but that’s about the extent of my civic involvement these days.”

“Maybe you should come to the march. We’ve got a great speaker lined up. She’s incredible. Inspirational. I bet you’d get a lot out of it.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, not very interested in attending but not wanting to hurt her feelings either. Moving the conversation along he looked up at her coyly and asked, “You got a date for this event?”

“Ha, why limit myself, right?”

Grinning as he gestured between them, Dean chuckled and said, “It’s like we’re one mind.”

Dean could feel himself relaxing as he was cleaned up. She moved on to lathering him from head to toe and he listened attentively while she explained the platform she was hoping to help establish if the court system could be pulled away from religious groups and put back in the hands of government. As he listened, he was surprised by the insightfulness of the model she was outlining, one that took money out of the system entirely. He asked a few clarifying questions and then carefully filed the information away in his head so that he could talk to his brother about it. It seemed a safe bet that Sam, always so idealistic, would have some strong opinions on the matter. After all, these issues greatly affected his future career as a lawyer: who he’d be employed by and how he was compensated as well as the methodology behind how cases were argued. And, to be honest, Dean was finding himself very impressed with Charlie’s observations.

Despite being surprisingly interested in a political discussion for once, Dean was growing tired. His legs were weak and shaky, a residual effect of the night’s activities, and by the time he was being spread out on the massage table, his eyelids were heavy and eager to slip closed. He stretched indulgently as Charlie began working his muscles into relaxation, the soothing oils she used wrapping him in a comfortable scent. She paid special attention to his backside, applying a combination of products to the battered tissue around his rim. The searing pain that had been eating away at him earlier was doused now and he could smell witch hazel mixed in with a cloying scent, also familiar but unnameable. They continued chatting off and on as her talented hands restored his body, but eventually he began slipping away.

When it was time to get up, he didn’t want to leave. “Just cover me up,” he sighed. “I’ll sleep right here.”

“Sorry,” she said softly, gently stroking his forehead, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

“Gotcha, Red.” Rolling to his side and sitting up, Dean hopped down from the table and stepped into the robe she held up for him. Then he waited for her to attach a lead to his collar and cuffs. They said goodnight as his rope was given over to Gordon. Even the self-righteous presence of Dean’s least favorite handler couldn’t kill the warmth and good feelings that his friend had massaged into him.

Aborting progress as they stepped out into the hall and turned left, Dean stopped in his tracks. “M’not goin’ to my cage tonight,” he said firmly. Tipping his chin to the right to indicate that a change in direction was needed, he told Gordon that he wanted to go to the resting area instead. “I’m off tomorrow,” he offered as an explanation.

“Yeah, I saw that,” sneered Gordon, “but you’re always sayin’ how you like your damned cage so I’m surprised you’d wanna sleep anywhere else.”

“Fuck off,” Dean grumbled, too tired to bother coming up with a better retort. Once he was back in the resting wing, Dean was liberated of his cuffs and collar. Stepping back up to the reception desk, he claimed the personal items he’d left there when checking back in. Dropping everything into his locker, Dean then headed to the resting room.

Because it was so late, the overhead lights were low. Along the wall to his left was the bank of windows that looked out over the courtyard. Curtains had been drawn over them, and the sets of tables and chairs nearby were vacant except for one. At the occupied table were two young women looking comfortable in their robes and leaning in as they both looked closely at something on the screen of a laptop.

The far end of the room was dominated by a wide fireplace and over its mantle was a huge television screen. On it, a movie was playing. Sprawled lazily on the couches clustered in that area were several people who had gathered to watch together. Extra pillows and blankets were strewn about and empty cups and plates littered the low coffee table at the center.

Turning to his right, Dean eyed the long line of beds that banked the other wall. Only a few were visible. The rest, currently occupied, had their privacy curtains drawn. This spacious room seemed considerably smaller with a wall of heavy, dark material cutting down the available floor space as it protected those sleeping in beds from both sound and light.

Walking down to one of the three available beds, Dean pulled the curtain shut before dropping his robe on the bedside chair and climbing between the crisp, fresh sheets. Now that he’d alerted his family to the situation with Novak, Dean felt relieved of all stress. Still sated from his voracious activities at the club and drowsy from an incredible massage, sleep came easily and lasted all night.

When he woke, Dean was ravenous and excited to eat. Out of habit he reached for his cell phone to check messages, then remembered that it was in his locker. There had been no point in keeping it with him when he knew no one would be calling.

Suffering through the indignity of a soiled diaper was a bit of a buzz kill, but once that was behind him, Dean hunkered down to enjoy several trips to the buffet. With the clock poised midway between breakfast and lunch, both types of food were available and he enjoyed a heaping plate of rich breakfast food before returning for a fresh plate. Loading it with sliced roast beef and potatoes, he poured several ladlesful of dark gravy over the whole plate. Pausing at the dessert bar with his tray, Dean grabbed a plate of his favorite pie as well as a few cookies before returning to his table.

Keeping him company today was an older man named Frank. Frank was easily Dean’s favorite handler to eat with. Having his diaper changed by the man had never been pleasant and it would definitely take a coin toss to determine which of them hated the procedure with more gusto. But, if you were going to spend an hour or more making repeated trips to the buffet as you leisurely stuffed your face, Frank was the best person to have with you.

Dean didn’t have to utter a word the entire time. He enjoyed his meal, nodding occasionally as the man regaled him with endless tales of government conspiracy theory that were intriguing and well thought out. Honestly, half of them may have even been true for all Dean knew. Most of the information that Frank provided was well researched and logically sound. As always, Dean was captivated.

When they parted company, Dean inquired if he’d still be on the clock during the dinner hour. Pleased with the affirmative response he received, he didn’t even pause before inviting the man to join him for a second meal that day. Frank seemed surprised to be invited, but quickly agreed to be there.

Dividing his afternoon hours between a short nap and a Dr. Sexy marathon on the couch next to a crackling fire, Dean eventually ambled back to the dining hall. Once again he relaxed while he ate, listening to his paranoid handler spin yarns about the layered intricacies of political games and government espionage.

When he couldn’t eat another bite, Dean let out a long and satisfied sigh. Frank seemed to sense that his time to talk was coming to an end because he actually sped up, talking so fast that his accompanying gestures were wild. Chuckling as he got to his feet, Dean leaned across the table and thanked him. Glancing down at the electronic notebook that handlers carried, Dean saw that the man hadn’t entered any notes on what Dean had eaten. He’d probably get in trouble for that and Dean hated the thought. So, as he turned to go, he said, “I had three plates, man. Fried chicken and potatoes, ham with macaroni and cheese, and… hell, let’s just say that last plate was full of fruit and vegetables, right?”

“Right,” grinned the old man, chuckling as he bent down to type out the little white lie.

Heading back to the registration desk, Dean made a brief stop at his locker for his cuffs and collar. A quick check of his phone confirmed that, as expected, he had no messages. He turned it off and left it behind, spinning the lock as he walked away.

Once he was back in the working wing, Dean was processed through a nurse in preparation for returning to work tomorrow. His blood was tested, his vitals were taken, and before he left, he received his injection. A few minutes later, as he was being walked down to the sleeping room, it began to kick in.

The flaccid cock that had dangled between his legs, mostly forgotten until now, twitched to life. It plumped as he walked, and the sensual feeling of it bobbing as he walked spread a wave of warm arousal over him.

“Welcome back little buddy,” teased Meg, making a show of watching his dick grow while she fumbled her keycard into the reader. “You’ve got some work to do in the morning,” she wheedled, her voice taking on the same sickening sweetness that a mother might use as she baby-talked to a toddler. Then, her eyes grew steely and defiant as she looked back up Dean and added, “but that’s a long time from now, isn’t it Dean?”

Groaning as he entered the room, he considered asking her to be knocked out. But, with the smug look she was wearing, he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. He ignored her as they walked down the long line of cages to arrive at his. To the right, Kevin’s cage lay empty. The kid was probably still hard at work in the rec room.

On the other side, however, Benny’s cage was occupied. “Evenin’ brotha,” the man greeted as Meg swung open the door for Dean.

Bending to crawl inside, Dean plopped down on his mattress and waited for Meg to remove his restraints. “S’up Benny?” he asked with a smile, “you done playin’ big bear for the day?”

“All-comers satisfied,” he replied smugly. “Were you off today?”

“Yep. But I’m back on tomorrow,” he said, his attention still lingering on Meg as  she made her exit.

“I can see that,” said his friend. When Dean returned his eyes to Benny, he saw the man grinning at him wickedly, eyes falling heavily to the rock-hard cock that now stood tall and proud between Dean’s legs. Unable to resist, Dean dropped his own eyes to Benny’s package as well and the two groaned audibly, both seeming to want the same thing.

“Touch it,” Benny ordered, his chin rising as his dominant side presented itself.

“No way,” sighed Dean, flopping down on the mattress. “That’ll just make it worse and I’m in for a long night as it is.”

“I hear ya,” his friend sighed, also laying down.

The men both spent a moment getting as comfortable as they could and then laid there staring at one another between the bars that separated them.

“Wish we could share cages,” Benny relented.

“Yeah,” agreed Dean, voice dropping low so as not to be overheard. “But I can see why it’s not allowed. I mean, you don’t even know the things I’d let you do to me in here. By the time they came to get me tomorrow, there’d be nothin’ left for the customers.”

“Hell, Dean,” admitted Benny softly, “some nights it ain't even about that. Don’tcha ever just ache to hold somebody? I sure do.”

“I s’pose,” he allowed. Then, in a halfway teasing tone, he added, “Hey man, if you wanna get a bear or something to hold, that’s cool with me. No judgement here.”

“Don’t need no fuckin’ teddy bear,” the man grumbled, thumping his fist on the mattress. “I need a real body in my arms, Dean. I need my-

Dean stared at his friend in the low light. Having heard a telltale crack in the man’s voice, Dean knew he was feeling emotional. Probably lonely. He wanted to say something comforting but nothing came to mind. Words weren’t really his thing.

A few feet away, Benny averted his eyes and tried again. “Man, I just… some nights I just need… I need my sweetheart, Dean. I need her.”

“Who’s your sweetheart?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Andrea,” sighed the man, whispering her name with reverence.

“What’s she like?”

“Beautiful,” he answered, tilting his head to meet Dean’s eye once more. “Tall. Greek. All dark skin and light eyes, taller even than me - when she puts on heels. Walks like a snake charmer, man, and catches every eye in the room the minute she walks in.”

“What’s she like?”

“Intense. She’s like a thunderstorm bearin’ down on a ship at sea. You can feel her comin’ before you even see her, and you don’t even bother tryin’ to get outta her way ‘cause it’s worth sinkin’ in the storm just to get close to that raw power… to really see her. The best place in the world to be, Dean, is the eye of that storm.”

“Well fuck,” he groaned, “never even met her and you’ve got me wantin’ to get a look.”

“She’s somethin’,” Benny smiled, eyes glazed over as though actually seeing her now.

“What happened? Where is she?”

“She’s out to sea, I imagine,” said Benny, still sounding wistful. “We’ve got a dream. And both of us are doin’ everything we can to see it through.”

“What’s the dream?”

“Sailin’ my friend. Sailin’ around the world under our own flag.”

“I see,” Dean smiled. “So that’s why you’re here? Savin’ up enough to buy a yacht?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. I can do jus’ as good here as I can stealin’ boats n’ scrappin’ them out, which is what I was doin’ when I met her.”

“And what was she doin’ when you met?”

“Same thing she is now, brotha, sailin’ the Caribbean with one fat cat after another. She can milk money from a old man like a country maiden milks a damn cow.”

“So that’s the plan? You guys split up, save up, and then retire together? Spend your golden years drifting around from one island to another?”

“Yeah, you get it. I knew you would. The idea is to set ourselves up for retirement before we’re too old to really enjoy it.”

“Sounds smart.”

“What about you, Winchester? What’s your big plan?”

“Aint got one.”

“Bullshit. I know you better than that. You’ve got an angle you’re workin’, I know it. And now that I’ve toldja mine, you gotta tell me yours. It’s the only decent thing to do.”

“Well, I’m savin’ for retirement too,” he sighed. “I just don’t have a perfect storm out there wait’n for me like you do.”

“These things happen in their own time,” said Benny sagely. “And since can’t neither of us have what we really want tonight, maybe we should jus’ have a little fun our own way.”

Locked into a deep gaze with his friend, Dean felt his resolve weakening. “Ben-

“C’mon Dean, you know you wanna touch it with me watchin’ ya. It’s better that way, right? Havin’ a set of eyes on ya while it happens… knowin’ they’re achin’ to touch you just as much as you’re achin’ to be touched.”

“Yeah.”

“Do it.”

Dean didn’t move, but he didn’t look away from the steel-blue eyes that bored into him either. He laid there, flat on his back with his head turned towards the next cage and his eager cock straining upwards in the hopes that something was about to happen.

“Do it,” Benny said again, more firmly this time. “Do it for me, Dean. Grab that perfect dick the way I would if I could.”

On the mattress, Dean’s fingers twitched. As always, he was eager to obey. Slowly, hesitantly, Dean lifted his arm, still not sure if he was willing to risk it. But then movement caught his eye and he broke Benny’s heavy stare to follow it, eyes chasing the movement the man’s hand where it had lifted from the mattress. Seeing that hand rise and then stop, poised in mid-air just a few inches away from the triumphant cock that stood waiting, Dean lost the battle. Licking his lips as he surrendered, his eyes stayed locked on Benny’s thick fingers as his own came to circle his shaft.

Both men let out a relieved groan as their palms wrapped around flesh. There was one glorious moment of fulfillment and then suddenly there was a loud clatter between their bars, an explosion of sound that sent Dean’s heart bounding in double time as he leapt to his knees and scuttled away from the clamber as a billy club was beaten against the outside of his cage.

“Gotcha,” gloated Meg in the silence that followed. Her features were smug as she looked back and forth between him and Benny. “Congratulations boys, you’ve both earned yourselves a cockcage for the night.”

“Fuck,” they both cursed in unison. Dean clenched his eyes against the sound as Benny kicked out angrily at his own bars. Even just his bare foot was enough to rattle the cage. Meg walked away then, presumably to fetch the equipment and another handler to help her force it upon them. There would be an incident report as well, Dean was sure of it.

“Fuck,” he spat again. Turning to look at Benny, Dean saw the guy turning on his side to face Dean.

“May as well go for it now,” his friend urged, grabbing his cock and starting to jack off. “At this point we’re busted anyway, right? May as well fucking get off.”

Finding himself in agreement, Dean turned his body too. He mirrored Benny’s pose, each of them giving the other a full frontal view as they gripped themselves tight and went to town. Jacking feverishly, Dean felt his body responding, not just to his own hand but also to the thrill of being watched and the excitement of the game as they both tried to cum before anyone could get their dicks under lock and key.

Dean was building fast, huffing and puffing as he watched Benny get himself off, neither of them bothering to keep quiet anymore. “Fuck,” he groaned, hearing the approach of footsteps, He wasn’t close enough. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, he pleaded, keeping his eyes on the live show happening one cage over and desperately hoping to come.

Again, the heart stopping clatter of a club on his bars assaulted his ears and sent his balls shooting back up inside his body. It was impossible to cum now. Defeated he dropped to the mattress in a huff as his cage door was swung open. Gordon was pulling now, jerking his arm and roughly tugging him out of the cage against his will. Dean knew the move that this man would use to subdue him and he knew how to evade it. He was, after all, a hunter. He’d tangled with far worse than Gordon and come out on top. But as much as he wanted to put the man in his place, Dean knew that in the long run it would be a mistake to follow his instincts and hand this man his ass. He didn’t want to have to deal with the increased security measures that would be put into place for him in the coming weeks if he indulged. He also didn’t want to be given any involuntary time off or assessed a financial penty. So, as much as he hated to do it, Dean let Gordon haul him to his feet and spin him. He took a deep breath to calm himself as his wrists were bound and tethered to the bars of his own cage. Behind him, Dean could hear others doing the same to Benny.

His cock was unceremoniously doused into a bucket of cold water and as he hissed in displeasure, Meg pressed up against his side to trap his cold, wet flesh in a little metal cage. “And here I thought I’d be bored tonight,” she purred, practically giddy as she locked down his dick.

“I don’t like to use the word cunt,” he said to her boldly. “But for you…

“Take it easy, Dean,” Meg practically purred. Her voice velvety smooth and dripping with false sweetness. “You’re already wearing a cage. You want a set of ankle cuffs too? Push your luck, big boy, and I might wind up having grounds to anchor you to the four corners of your cage. All. Night. Long.”

He had no idea if she’d be able to make good on the threat or not, but he wasn’t going to chance it and find out. He stood obediently and waited while his poor little cock was examined under a flashlight to be sure he it was properly locked and that his member was uninjured. He didn’t resist when he was manhandled back into his cage, either.

He laid on his mattress for a long time, fuming and frustrated. Then, when he’d finally calmed enough to trust his temper, he called for a handler.

Thankfully, neither Meg or Gordon was the one to answer. “What do you need?” asked the one who stepped up.

“I need something to help me sleep,” he answered, keeping his eyes shut tightly as he made his request. From close by he heard Benny softly say, “Me too.”

Waking from chemically induced sedation was always kind of a blurry affair, a slow process of bringing his sluggish body back to the land of the living. But, as when he was coming around the next morning, Dean made a focused effort not to dwell on what had happened the night before. Today was a sex day and he was eager to get out and play.

He drank his juice like a good boy and followed his handler obediently as he was led to the salon. Cared for by Lydia today, there wasn’t much to be said. He just stayed quiet and followed her instructions as she gave him an emema, scrubbed him clean, waxed him, and prepared him for the Gallery.

Dean’s excitement grew incrementally as the time for him to be auctioned off grew closer. By the time he was shoved through the door, he’d long forgotten about last night. Flashing his best smile, Dean strutted out to center stage and surveyed the crowd as the bidding got under way.

Striding forward to get a closer look, Dean let his eyes rove over the audience as he tried to choose which he favored today.

He didn’t actually have a strong desire for any particular type of fuck today, which was unusual for Dean but not unheard of. He was just mellow for some reason, ready to take whatever came his way rather than being focused on a particular mood or kink or type of customer. Maybe it was a lingering effect of the sedative that had helped him sleep through the night.

Regardless, Dean simply posed for the crowd and showed himself off as his number went up. He glanced up at it a few times, making a show of reacting to it. He pantomimed shock and then bashfulness as the bidding kept on and the crowd laughed along, whistling and cheering for him. When the bell rang to indicate a winner, Dean looked out into the crowd to get a look at who he’d be entertaining.

That’s when his heart leapt up into his throat.

Standing there, stiff as a board amidst the commotion of the surrounding crowd, was none other than Agent Novak.

  
                                    


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiella, thank you so much!!

                                                                       

Center stage in the Gallery, Dean stood and stared at his winning bidder. The man in the trenchcoat didn’t posture as he had the last time he’d won Dean’s auction. He didn’t square his shoulders, nor did he lift his chin and stare down from beneath a sexy arching eyebrow. His body posture made no promises of a sensual battle of wills or even hinted at the desire for one.

Amidst the energetic crowd, Agent Novak stood perfectly still and his eyes narrowed to slits as the two of them stared one another down.

Determined not to break first, Dean focused solely on staring and let the rest of the world fall away. In the back of his mind, he was coming to grips with the reality of the situation… that he wouldn’t be getting laid. His first and best fuck of the day was to be utterly wasted on a man who had absolutely no sexual inclination towards him whatsoever. Not only that, but he’d need to keep his wits about him. Agent Novak seemed to be well versed in interrogation techniques, constantly changing the subject and then returning to the main line of questioning from unexpected angles. The tactic had been effective last time, pulling several admissions from Dean that might’ve been damaging to his father and offering up new avenues from which the agent could come at him for information. This time he’d have to be smarter. Stronger. And, yeah, he’d have to _shut the fuck up_.

Still staring at the trenchcoated man in the gallery, Dean paid zero attention to the crowd as their applause died down. He paid no heed to the voices of not one but two handlers that had called to him from the doorway and then  continued calling to him as they approached. He didn’t turn away from the agent, even when he felt their rough hands on him.

The snap of a lead being attached to his collar registered on some level, but Dean was entirely focused on his stare-down with Novak and he didn’t devote any conscious awareness to the rest of the world until he was physically tugged away by his throat.

When eye contact was broken by no fault of his own, Dean snapped back to the real world to take in the environment around him. There was a strange hush over the crowd and the low hum of whispers as auction goers spoke to one another in hushed tones about the strange turn of events happening on stage.

In his time at the brothel, Dean had witnessed few auctions other than his own so he had only a vague idea of what was normal. But for him, normal was to both enter and exit to cheers and excitement from the crowd, not curious speculation. He’d never been dragged away either, and he wasn’t sure if anyone ever had. He didn’t make it easy on those who’d pulled him away either, because deep down he was angry over the injustice of what was happening to him.

At the moment, Dean was freshly ramped up on a powerful hormone cocktail - one that propelled his desire to fuck into the stratosphere. His needs were strong physically and it wouldn’t be easy to fight them. Just like his last encounter with Novak, Dean’s condition would put him at a disadvantage for questioning and he knew it. Clearly Novak knew it too, and would use that knowledge ruthlessly. It wasn’t fair.

Dean wasn’t a prisoner in this place. He was here of his own volition and was free to refuse service to anyone. In fact, he could report unpleasant experiences to management and have customers placed on warning lists or even barred. But that knowledge was of little comfort now. Dean had been suspecting, since his ‘quid pro quo’ questioning last time, that his cooperation was only Plan A for Novak. He was fairly certain that if he tried to decline service to Novak or have the man barred, he’d be taken into custody. So, he had no choice. Not really.

At present, he was being physically dragged from the Gallery and soon he’d be tethered to the back wall of a small room where he’d be left alone with Agent Novak. Suddenly, Dean felt like a fool. He’d honestly thought that his session with the agent had been a one time thing. He’d assumed the man would take the little bit of information that Dean had unwittingly given over last time and go put it to use… pound the pavement looking for Dean’s father… and somehow be unaware that Dean had sent word to John Winchester that he’d better step up his hiding game.

But no. That wasn’t to be the way of it, he could see that now. Novak would keep coming back until he had what he wanted.

Once he’d been pulled through the gallery exit, Dean stopped resisting. He’d wanted to be sure that the agent knew he’d only broken eye contact when physically forced to do so. But now that he was no longer in view of the public, Dean immediately gave up all pretenses of fighting his handlers. “Sorry, guys,” he said, dropping his arms to his sides. “I’m done fightin’ ya.”

Puzzled faces looked him up and down. “I mean it,” he assured them. “There’s just somethin’ personal between me and the dude that just bought me. I guess I kinda freaked out for a sec. But I’m fine now. Good to go, ‘kay?”

The lead handler, identifiable by the color of his shirt, which singled him out as an authority figure, looked him directly in the eye and said, “Do you wish to decline servicing him?”

“No.”

“Do you wish to enter a formal complaint about the customer?”

“No, man, it’s cool. I’m good to go.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know that right?”

“I know, and thanks. I just overreacted is all. You can take me to the room.”

Taking a step back, the leader then nodded to the others and everyone relaxed. Dean waited to be led, even though he knew exactly which direction to go. When prompted, he followed. He let himself be taken to the room designated for him and took a deep breath as he was guided inside. In his periphery, he could see that the lead handler was lingering in the doorway to watch Dean and he knew that because of his theatrics, the man would likely seat himself at the camera and watch his entire session with Novak. He’d want to be sure that if an intervention was needed, optimal reaction time would be achieved.

Dean leaned into the wall as he was anchored to it by cuffs and collar. It was strange to imagine his time here at the brothel being over, but it was. It had to be. Novak had seen to that when he’d returned for another round of questioning. The guy would keep coming back, Dean could see that now. He’d buy Dean over and over again, relentlessly interrogating him. Eventually, one of two things would happen. Either Dean would slip up and give the man what he wanted, or he’d be taken into custody when Novak finally realized that Dean was a nut he couldn’t crack.

With a deep sigh, Dean accepted that it was time to leave Hell’s Angels. The details of how exactly that would happen needed to be ironed out immediately, but it wasn’t smart to be thinking about that now. At this moment, his full attention needed to be on his session with Novak.

Dean knew that when the ninety minutes were over, he’d be taken to the Salon for rejuvenation. Then he could turn his attention to the specifics of getting the hell out of here. In the meantime, he’d do his best to keep a clear head and not let anything slip to the detective, agent, whatever.

Dean’s body was working against him, though. His asshole was wet with slick, quivering for action. His dick was hard in it’s cockring and only cool where it made contact with the cinderblock wall to which he was bound. The rest of his manhood was hot and needy and, from his tip, it pulsed dribbles of pre-cum as it waited impatiently to shoot the first of many loads. He needed a clear head but in the absence of one, he’d just have to do his best.

Dean was determined to be stronger this time, to abstain from begging. His last encounter with the agent had been humiliating and he hoped to come through this one with a bit more dignity. Of course he’d have to appear frustrated by the questioning, which wasn’t really an issue, and he’d have to answer as many questions as possible to seem at least minimally cooperative, but he couldn’t actually divulge anything that might be dangerous to his old man. It was also important that he not give any indication of his plans to leave the brothel. Figuring out how to hide his money and get off grid would be hard enough without having some government agent two steps ahead of him the whole time. Ugh. There were so many obstacles now, when just a few days ago his life had been so simple.

From behind him, Dean heard the familiar sound of the door being opened. He was out of time to think.

“Hello, Dean.”

Shit. His body was betraying him already. Just the sound of that voice did things to him. Deep and husky, promising dominance, that voice resonated with Dean. It made his cock stand up a little straighter, stand at attention. It made his eager hole quiver with anticipation. It made his knees weak, willing to abandon the duty of holding him up in favor of letting him crumble to the floor where his ass would inevitably present itself willingly for the taking. Fuck.

Clearly assuming that Dean was holding out on him, Agent Novak repeated himself and this time, he was firmer. Practically growling, he said again, “Hello, Dean.”

“H-Hello,” he replied, gulping in a deep breath and praying for strength.

“What’s my name, Dean?” pressed the agent, “Don’t just say hello. Greet me by name.”

Damn his traitorous cock to hell. Poor fucking thing had no idea how dangerous this man was to him… all it knew was how badly it wanted to obey the owner of that incredible voice. If it weren’t attached, the thing would’ve likely pulled away from Dean and trotted over to Novak like a well trained pup.

“Hello, Agent Novak,” he replied, gulping in a deep breath as he tried to gather his inner strength. He’d need it all today, of that he was sure. The man behind him didn’t speak again, instead advancing on him with slow and heavy footfalls. _He’s trying to intimidate me_ , thought Dean. _Don’t play into it. Stand firm. Say as little as possible._

“You’ve thought about me a lot since our last meeting, haven’t you.”

 _Be careful. Think._ Dean knew a thing or two about interrogation techniques. Even the questions that seem innocuous were asked with a specific purpose, even if that purpose was simply to get him to start talking. Dean also understood that the agent wasn’t expecting him to fully cooperate, so he had some wiggle room to drag his feet a little when responding. He just shrugged.

Dean knew that the best thing he could do was keep the guy hopeful, keep him probing, keep him asking questions…  give just enough information to string the guy along. If he failed to do that, it was likely that he’d wind up being led out of here in cuffs.

It wasn’t as if the man was going to reward Dean’s resistance by giving up to go home empty-handed and leave Dean to just go on living life as free man, warrants be damned. No way. Not this guy.

Caught up in his thoughts, Dean didn’t respond fast enough to the question. From behind him, the agent leaned in and spoke directly into his ear, breath hot on his skin, and said, “Don’t be coy.”

Goosebumps broke out over his skin in response and Dean had to fight not to lean back into the man’s body. When Novak stepped away, Dean held his ground and tried to keep still. Then, the agent began slowly pacing back and forth behind him. “I know you’ve been thinking of me,” he said firmly. “Since we met, you’ve thought of little else. Isn’t that right Dean?”

“Yeah,” he answered, trying to think quickly and come up with a witty rejoinder. Settling for far less than his best, Dean added, “Been thinkin’ about you is walkin’ around in a body like that, but wont fuck me. It kinda ruins the session for me. It’s a waste.”

“You speak of waste,” replied the agent gruffly. “You are handsome, smart, and funny. Most people would say that you have the ‘whole package’. But, instead of choosing someone worthy and forging a bond with them, you willingly defile yourself for money. You throw it all away.”

 _Don’t take the bait_ , he told himself. Unfortunately a flare of defensiveness triggered his mouth before his brain could intervene. “I ain’t throwin’ away shit, buddy,” he snarled. “You paid a fuck-ton of money for ninety minutes with me. Top fucking dollar. I ain’t throwin’ it away - I’m fuckin’ capitalizing on it.”

“I suppose that’s how it seems to you,” conceded Novak. “But I think we both know that you’re capable of far more than just selling your body for sex.”

“Oh yeah?” he replied, craning his neck to try and get a look at the man for the first time. “What bright future am I turning my back on to work here, huh?” His question was genuine. He had absolutely no idea what he wanted to do with his life. Unlike his little brother, who had always dreamt of becoming a lawyer and fighting for justice, Dean didn’t have a noble dream. He often wondered what, outside of hunting or whoring, he might eventually do with his life. Sadly, there were no strong inclinations. So, if he could eat up a few of their ninety minutes listening to a competent man make some viable suggestions, then that was a win as far as Dean was concerned.

“Haven’t you seen the posters, Dean? You can be anything you want to be.”

It was a lame response as far as Dean was concerned, but from Agent Novak’s point of view, it was probably a good answer. It shut down this line of discussion without actually conceding the point. “You tryin’ to light a fire under me, Novak?” he tried, pausing but leaving no time for an answer before continuing. “It’s kinda hard to think about my future aspirations when I’ve got this raging boner. Maybe you should turn me loose like last time and let me get off while we chat. Then at least I could think of somethin’ besides this monster hard-on between my legs.”

“You still want my cock,” said the agent boldly, reminding Dean of their parting exchange during the previous visit.

The statement was true enough and with nothing to gain by denying it, Dean just smirks as he plays along. “Had the replica last time,” he reminded, “may as well cross my fingers and hope for the real deal this time, right?”

“Keep hoping,” the man answered in a condescending voice. “It’s never going to happen.”

“Never? You mean no matter how many questions I answer, you’re never gonna actually bone me?”

“I couldn’t be less interested in using this room the way it’s intended,” said Novak harshly.

The words were almost physically painful - a crushing  reminder that Dean is not appealing to this man at all. There’s only person in this room fighting an attraction and it’s Dean. Scorned and a bit embarrassed, he said, “Don’t spare my feelings, Novak, just tell me how it is.”

In response, the agent replied, “Don’t treat me like a fool, Dean. I know you’re not wounded. You might be eager for intercourse because your body is chemically altered, but I know that you hold me in contempt.”

 _Bullseye_ , thought Dean. Recovering from the sting of rejection now, the bolder side of himself retakes the reigns. Moaning wantonly, he arched his back and sarcastically said, “Ooh yeah, Novak, say ‘intercourse’ again. It’s so hot.”

“I think you’re stalling,” the man snapped in response.

“And I think you’ve got an unfair advantage,” Dean shot back. The words were honest and on point. Novak seemed to sense it too - his eyes narrowing as he began circling around behind Dean like a shark that just tasted blood in the water. He quickly fired off another question, probably hoping for another honest answer out of Dean before he could recover the ability to lie smoothly.

“Where is your father?”

“I don’t know.” There. Novak got his honest answer.

“Why do you cover for him, Dean, he’s a murderer.”

“So you say,” he sneered haughtily. “I know better.”

“He’s placed you in harms way over and over, practically fed you to the wolves. I’ve got surveillance footage to prove it. If he’s such a saint, then why does he endanger his son? Doesn’t he love you?”

 _Ouch._ It was another painful jab. Clearly for this round, the gloves were coming off. _Don’t take the bait - control your temper._ Dean had to bite his lip to hold back the flood of defensive statements that threatened to spill out. _Zip it,_ he thinks _, Lock it down. Do. Not. Speak._

“Does your father really love you, Dean?”

_Don’t even dignify that with an answer._

“How do you know, Dean? How do you know he loves you? Does he tell you so?”

_Hold still. He’s watching your reactions. Every breath. Every twitch. Your body answers him even when you don’t. Give him nothing. Nothing._

“Answer me when I ask you a question, Dean,” commanded Novak, stepping around to put his face in front of Dean’s. _Close your eyes_. “Answer. Me. Does your father love you?”

_Of course he does. You’re his son._

“Dean. There are consequences for not answering me when I ask you a question. Now, I’m going to ask you one last time. Does your father love you?”

“Of course he does,” spat Dean, anger and hatred escaping his mouth right along with the words. “Of course he fuckin’ does, you bastard.”

“How do you know that? Does he tell you so? Does he say, ‘I love you’?”

 _Never. Not even once._ He remained silent and still, focused on giving nothing away, verbally or otherwise.

“Open your eyes, Dean.”

Ugh. _Fuck you Novak_ , he thought. _And fuck you, Cock, for still wanting this fuckers hands on you._ Begrudgingly, Dean opened his eyes as commanded and looked into the clear, glassy orbs that stared unblinking back into his own. They were so damned blue. Deep too. Tempting, like cool water on a hot summer day. He wanted to jump in. But, enticing as those eyes were, they were also dangerous; like a riptide. He’d be pulled out to drown.

“You don’t need to try and fabricate a lie, Dean. I already know that your father doesn’t tell you that he loves you.”

Dean broke then, gulping in a much needed breath and grimacing at the strange, wet sound it made in his constricting throat. He was no longer able to control his non-verbal cues, or anything else for that matter. At this point, he was hyper-focused on just one thing... the most important thing right now. _Don’t you fuckin’ cry._

“So,” continued Novak, “If your father doesn’t tell you that he loves you, then he must show you, right? His actions must convey love to you in some way. Otherwise, how would you know?” Without pausing, the man goes on to say, “What is it that your father does to show his love for you?”

 _Fuck_. Nothing was coming to mind. Time seemed to stretch out as his mind raced to produce something, anything. He needed something to cling to in order to keep his heart from breaking. Dean needed to be able to say, ‘This. This thing he said, or, this thing he did… this is how I know.’ But there was nothing.

Dean knew that his father loved him, he was certain it. But where was the proof? Where? He didn’t even need it for Novak… he needed it for himself. The agent was staring down his nose at Dean, waiting for an answer and his calmness in the face of Dean’s turmoil was enraging and he lashed out at Novak before he could stop himself. “I got nothin’ to prove to you, you fucker.” The words were said with such force that a tiny burst of moisture came out with them. He was literally ‘spittin’ mad’. “You don’t know shit about shit,” he added for good measure.

“I know that you have doubts,” responded Agent Novak softly, coming to stand by Dean’s side. “I know you don’t fully embrace the path your father was leading you down, or you wouldn’t be working here.”

Dean can hear a softness in the man’s voice as the words are said. Responding to it, he nods in agreement before remembering not to. Immediately he knew that his small and abortive movement had been noticed. It was another fuck up and it would cost him.

Internally chastising himself for his weakness, Dean steels himself with a renewed commitment not to be lured into the emotional games that Agent Novak was playing… tearing him down and then comforting him while he was low… exploiting his weak points… skewing his perceptions and manipulating him. At this point, the man had Dean beaten down. He was weak and the agent knew it. He could practically feel another round of emotional blows coming and, right now, he’d rather take a savage uppercut to the chin. Being physically struck would hurt so much less.  

“Dean, have you ever been down to the basement level here at Hell’s Angels?”

“W-what?” If Novak had been trying to disorient him, he had succeeded. Dean’s mind immediately started spinning wildly as he tried to figure out why the agent was asking such an unexpected question. Why was he not exploiting the weakness that he’d uncovered so callously? The man should be peeling back the layers of Dean’s childhood and teen years for information he can use in his search for John Winchester… his habits, his weaknesses, his favorite places to hide, things like that. The question that was actually asked seemed innocuous enough to answer but that was probably the motivation behind it having been asked. Something just wasn’t sitting right.

“The basement, Dean,” pressed Novak, “I want to know what’s in the basement. Have you been down there?”

Unable to pinpoint any way in which this question might endanger his father, Dean warily proceeded. Posturing, he answered the question with a question and did his best to lace some attitude into his tone. He didn’t want to seem uncooperative, but also hoped to convey the impression that he had successfully rebounded from his previous moment of vulnerability.

“C’mon agent,” he said, turning his head and showing a carefully composed smirk. “It’s the basement of a whore house - what the fuck do ya think is down there, huh? Vegas money says it’s packed to the ceiling with crates of Summer’s Eve Douche and Z-paks, don’tcha think?”

“Azithromycin?” replied Novak questioningly. “That’s nothing. A low grade antibiotic. Why would armed guards be needed to protect that?”

“There are guards?”

“Yes. Last time I was here I got off the elevator on the wrong floor. Basement level. Of course I returned to the elevator when prompted, but I keep thinking about it and now that I know there are armed guards posted, I can’t help but wonder what might be down there that’s so valuable.”

“You make it sound so ominous,” Dean replied, “but _all_ the fuckin’ guards around here are armed. Every single one of ‘em is packin’. It’s for our protection.”

“You’ve really never been down there?”

“No,” he admitted, having now deemed that this line of questioning to be safe. “No, I’ve never been down there.”

“Well, if that area isn’t typically frequented by those of you who need protection, then why the guards?”

“Dunno,” he answered honestly. “I’m just spitballin’ here, but maybe there’ve been break-ins or somthin’.  I mean, people don’t just steal money, right? They steal meds too. Even _I_ know that. So, yeah, I guess guards aren’t so strange if there are meds down there.”

“No, not so strange,” agreed Novak. “That is, if you’re correct and all that’s in the basement are cases of z-paks and douche.”

Dean had to work to keep from rolling his eyes. With a labored sigh he said, “Maybe you should go have another look.” Then, tipping his chin to indicate his bound hands, Dean added, “I’ll just wait here.”

At this point he was doing anything he could to waste time. It felt like their session had been dragging on for weeks. He was exhausted and aching all over. Holding the same position was taking it’s toll. His muscles were weak and shaky and his nerves were shot.

As if he could read Dean’s mind, Novak said, “It must be taxing to stand for so long while bound to the wall like that. Would you like to be let loose? Perhaps sit down in a chair while we chat?”

“Sitting in a chair comes with a price, doesn’t it, Agent?”

“Quid pro quo,” reminded the raven-haired man.  

“I’d rather stand.”

“Dean, as you’ve so brazenly pointed out, I have paid thousands of dollars for this time that we’re spending together. You are _hardly_ making it worth my money.”

“Offer me more than a chair then,” Dean barked over his shoulder. “Last time I got a dildo and the bed. Now you think a fuckin’ chair is gonna soften me up?”

“Well, the dildo and the bed didn’t work last time. I left here unsatisfied. That’s not how quid pro quo works, Dean. Tell you what - you give me something that’s worth what I’ve spent on you and I’ll let you fuck yourself silly.”

Even hearing the word ‘fuck’ in this man’s deep and commanding voice made Dean shudder. His dick had been aching for so long now, and between his cheeks Dean was feeling the throb of his pounding pulse. The tight rim around his asshole was juicy and wet and the insides of his thighs were moist with the slick that had been slowly seeping down from between his cheeks. Having grown tacky as it cooled there untouched, it was making him uncomfortably cold even though the room was relatively warm.

Behind him, the agent was still pacing and as Dean craned his neck to watch, he wound up saying, “Alright, what would I have to give-up to get myself untied and sitting on the bed?”

“Try me, Dean. Give me something… some little clue… even if it’s something elusive. I don’t expect you to give me his current location even if you could. But, you can give me something to chew on… something I can decipher that helps me track him. I don’t need you to give him up, Dean, just give me a clue. That way, if I find him, it will be of my own merit not because you rolled over for me. You see the difference?”

Dean had known from the beginning that he was at a disadvantage with Novak. He was bound. He was naked. He was high, for all intents and purposes. His body was surging with hormones designed to magnify a carnal appetites into the stratosphere and because of that his sexual need was almost primal. Animalistic.

In terms of interrogation practices, this scenario ranked right up there with denying food, water, or rest to the subject. Dean was at a disadvantage having grown weak and vulnerable while, in contrast, Agent Novak remained strong.

Knowing that he would appear to be considering the agents offer, Dean used the guise of ‘thinking things over’ to lean his head on the wall and get some much needed rest. He closed his eyes and signed deeply. It was a much needed reprieve.

Novak didn’t prompt him at. There was no throat clearing or toe tapping, absolutely nothing to indicate that the agent might be growing impatient as he waited. In fact, the guy was so still and quiet that, for a time, Dean’s mind lost track of where the man was in the room. Wondering why he was being allowed so much leeway, Dean picked up his head to look around.

He found Novak standing just a few feet from him and staring intently. He appeared to be looking at Dean’s ass, which seemed inconsistent with his hetero behavior so far. Dean saw his eyes snap up to meet his own, but saw no guilt reflected there when caught staring. It seemed likely that the agent had simply noticed the excessive wetness between Dean’s legs - a physical embodiment of his lust.

The agent, though still, was far from relaxed. In fact, his posture was stiff and his shoulders were hunched forward a bit. His eyes were focused intently and he appeared anticipatory, almost curious.

Since they’d first met, this man had displayed alpha-male type behavior and Dean had been thinking of him as ‘Agent’ or ‘Novak’ while teetering back and forth between wanting him and wanting him to die. But, the softer version of the lawman which occasionally peeked out made Dean feel inclined to call him something more familiar, like his first name. But, now that he was thinking of using it, the moniker seemed to have escaped his memory completely. When he tried to recall it, all that came to mind was having once called the man ‘Cas’. The shortened version of the dude’s name does nothing to help Dean recall it, other than to remind him that it had started with the letter ‘C’ and been wildly unusual.

“Dean,” said the agent, pulling him from his thoughts, “do you have something to say to me?”

He turned his gaze downward and tried to appear humble as he shook his head no. He’d been walking on eggshells so far, riding a fine line between reluctant participation and blatant defiance. There was no point in sabotaging all his hard work  by exuding excessive cockiness now. Keeping his posture humble, Dean waited for the agent to respond.

When he finally spoke, Novak’s voice had grown terse. His dominant side seemed to be reasserting itself. “That’s fine,” he said, “it really makes no difference to me.” Novak continued by saying, “At this point I can only assume that you’ve alerted your father about my last visit?”

Hearing this, Dean stiffened. His heart thumped faster and a cold, creeping dread passed over him. Not pausing for an answer, the agent went on to say, “I would expect nothing less of you. You’re loyal to him, that’s no secret. Even though we’ve only spent a small amount of time together, it seems safe to assume that you were very cautious about the manner in which you contacted him. No doubt you’d want to avoid inadvertently leading me to him. So, Dean, how did you do it? How did you contact your father?”

The question itself seemed relatively innocuous. After all, the guy was right. Dean had known the risks of sending a warning and that’s why he’d been so very cautious about the manner in which he’d done it. The call to Sam had been untraceable and he was sure of it. But, even if he were wrong about that, the content of the call had revealed nothing.

Dean corroborating that a warning had been sent wouldn’t hurt anything, he thought, so he went ahead and willingly gave one up for Novak. He knew better than to think he’d receive any kind of reward for answering such a soft-ball question so he didn’t bother asking. He just looked the man in the eye and said, “Yeah, I fuckin’ put in a call.” Then he began to prepare himself for the next question which he assumed would would carry more weight.

“But you didn’t contact him directly, did you Dean.” It was a question, but the tone in which the words were delivered sounded like a statement.

“Nope,” he admitted. And deep down he chastised himself for answering so quickly. Even for the easiest questions he should think twice before opening his mouth.

“Who did you call,” asked the agent, his face reflecting irritation. To Dean it seemed like he was indignant about having to ask such incremental questions. To say the man appeared to be growing impatient wouldn’t really be accurate though. It was more like he just loathed this little song-n-dance they were doing - like he considered it to be beneath him, or maybe just considered the whole thing to be a waste of time.

“Doesn’t matter who I called,” said Dean, testing the waters and watching closely for the reaction his words would provoke. “All that matters is that he’s gonna be deep underground now. If you thought he was hard to track down before, then buddy, you’re up shit creek without a paddle now. ‘Cause at this point, even I couldn’t find him.”

Range of motion was measured in inches when his cuffs and collar were anchored to the wall like this. Since he wasn’t physically able to turn around and face his interrogator, that left Dean constantly straining to look over his shoulder in order to see his adversary. Worse still, the man was pacing the room relentlessly this time, which meant that Dean’s neck and shoulders were growing painfully sore from the effort involved in keeping Novak in his sights. A headache was setting in as well, and he earnestly wished there was a clock in sight so he’d know how much longer this session would last. In spite of his physical discomforts, he watched Novak closely for his reaction.

In response to Dean’s declaration, the agent paused for a moment and then stepped in closer. “Then you’re wasting my time,” he said.

“Finally,” smirked Dean, “we agree on something.”

“Well then,” said the agent firmly as he stepped away, “if you can’t help me locate your father then I suppose it’s time for me to move on to someone who can.” Quickly picking up on the agent’s shift in tone, Dean soon recognized that the words carried a threat. The agent was backing up now, retreating towards the door, and his next move was painfully obvious.

It was no surprise to Dean when, from behind him, the agent pointedly said, “I hear California is lovely this time of year.”

_Sammy._

“Wait,” he said, head still supported by cool, painted cinder block. The possibility of being taken into custody was reason enough to keep tap dancing with Novak, but it was even more important to keep Sammy from having to do it. Clearly the agent was ready to play hardball and for a beat, Dean hoped his father really was in Yemen. Because, sadly, he was going to have to cough up a worthwhile tip. Otherwise, he was pretty sure that when this session was over, he’d be trading one set of cuffs for another. On the backs of his eyelids, Dean could see the whole thing playing out like a movie… Novak striding out into the hall where men would be waiting to take Dean into custody as soon as they’d been given a signal. Dean would then have no chance to tie up any loose ends here at the brothel or give his brother any warning of what was coming as he was simply being whisked away in a black van. He’d be stuck behind bars in an orange jumpsuit without any of his worldly possessions, without access to his money or even a fucking phone call while Novak grabbed a flight west.

All Dean could think in this moment was that his brother fucking deserved the ‘normal life’ that he’d worked so hard to create for himself. If there was anything Dean could do to help Sammy keep that life, he had to do it.

“Wait,” he said again, louder this time because Agent Novak hadn’t stopped moving closer to the door.

“Yes, Dean?” he replied, hardly bothering to cover the smugness in his voice.

 _Jim Rockford_ , he thought. _Give this fucker Jim Rockford._

“I - I wanna…

“Yes, Dean?” pressed Novak immediately.

“Don’t go, okay? Just, well, just use the rest of your time, man, you’ve already paid for it.”

“I’m not one to beat a dead horse, Dean. Even if I already paid for it. So, are you going to make it worth my time if I stay?”

“Yeah, man,” he said. And in that moment, he hated everyone and everything. He hated the life he’d been raised in. He hated his brother for wanting more, and he hated his father for opposing it. He hated being painted into a corner by law enforcement too, especially considering that the Winchesters had been doing their fucking job for them all his life.

“Alright then,” said Novak, finally taking a seat. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

“There’s a name we use, it’s like a code… it’s how we find each other when we’re separated. Jim Rockford. If you find a reservation under that name, then you’ve found one of us.”

“Now that’s more like it,” praised Novak. “I understand that you’ve only given me that name because you know your father will no longer be using it… not after he’s been tipped off about me by your phone call anyway. But that doesn’t matter. You’ve given me something I can use to see where he’s been, establish a pattern, chase leads. I never thought you’d make it easy on me, but I had hoped you’d at least throw me a bone.”

Dean remained quiet. The agent was right, or course, but that didn’t ease his guilt. If John Winchester was captured because of intel that Dean had provided, regardless of how tenuous the connection, he’d never forgive himself.

“Dean look at me,” said the agent from behind him. The man’s voice was different now. Softer. Like before, when Dean had thought of calling him by his first name. He moved his head to make eye contact, but he was far too resentful at the moment to respond to the kindness that permeated the man’s next words. “Quid pro quo, Dean. You gave me something I wanted. Now, I’ll give you something too.”

Dean watched as the man rose and walked over to the chest where toys were kept. “Would you like the same one as last time?” he asked, wide blue eyes blinking innocently.

“It was shaped like you,” he snarled in response, “I’d rather eat dirt.”

For just a split second, Novak actually looked wounded. _Good_ , he thought. But sadly, the flicker of emotion didn’t last long enough on his facial features to be satisfying. “What would you like instead of the toy Dean?” he asked amiably.

“How ‘bout five minutes without the sound of your fuckin’ voice?”

Novak didn’t answer, but rather tilted his head forward as if to wordlessly accept the request and honor it with silence. Dean’s gaze lingered as the man stepped back over to sit down in the chair and then he let his eyes slip closed as he once more leaned on the wall. He did his best to rest but it wasn’t long before he’d begun wishing that he’d asked for silence _and_ to sit the fuck down.

Everything hurt. His head was pounding, his neck and shoulders sore. His stomach clenched with nerves and a telltale ache that radiated up from his balls and untouched cock. Between Dean’s thighs the skin was sticky with the lube that his horny body had continued producing even though it wasn’t needed. Having been wet for so long between his legs, the skin there was unpleasantly cold too. As was the head of his dick which had also been leaking off and on during his exchange with the agent. Dean shifted his weight back and forth between his feet, resting each in turn, but they hurt from standing so long. Walking or sitting would feel like relief, but to just stand in one place for an extended period of time was far more challenging than most people knew.

Without a way to track the time, it was impossible to know if he’d actually been granted the full five minutes of quiet he’d requested. But, when the agent spoke next, Dean suspected that the man hadn’t shortchanged him.

“Dean,” he said, “I’d like to ask you a question that’s entirely hypothetical.”

With his body still facing away from Novak, Dean nodded agreement. He understood that the man was letting him know that this next question wasn’t really being asked for investigative purposes. Regardless, he knew it was foolish to let his guard down. So even as he listened to the question being posed, Dean turned his attention back to keeping a locked frame and a tight lip so as not to give anything away.

“You’ve said that I’m wrong about your father; that he’s not a murderer despite evidence to the contrary.”

“That’s right,” he said, giving a firm nod.

“I want you to know that I understand having unshakeable loyalty to one’s family. I am loyal to my father, even though he’s been absent for most of life. He often shows up out of the blue, offers me no apology for all he’s missed, and then leaves again with no explanation. But still, I defend him. Most days I wouldn’t even be able to explain why I do it. But I always do. I seem to have an unshakeable faith in him against all logic.

“What I’d like to ask you, Dean, is regarding your father’s crimes. Or, alleged crimes, I suppose.” When he heard Novak amend the word ‘crimes’ to ‘alleged crimes’, Dean suddenly realized that he’d neglected his duties in keeping still.

Lulled into complacency as he’d listened to a low rumbling voice speak of their possible common ground, Dean hadn’t been able to stop himself from tensing when hearing the phrase, “your father’s crimes”. Obviously the agent had seen him twitch and quickly amended his verbiage, likely with the intention of appeasing him. But what he’d also inadvertently done by correcting himself like that, was show Dean that he wasn’t the only one who had relaxed a little in the moment. As much of a mistake as it had been for Dean to allow his body to react to the man’s words, Novak had been mistaken to correct himself. Doing so had been an admission that not only was he watching Dean closely for his reactions, but actually adjusting his words accordingly.

Looking at the man now, Dean could see that he was the softer version of himself. Dean had caught a few glimpses of it during both of their sessions and found that he liked it. Responded too it. Perhaps not as much as he responded to the man’s dominant side, which elicited a very sexual reaction from him, but somehow the softer side of the man appealed to him too.

“What’s your name again?’ he asked. “Your first name,”  he clarified, looking Novak in the eye.

The agent’s mouth quirked at one corner as if amused. Then, he answered. “Castiel.”

Dean nodded, certain he’d remember this time. Though he remained committed to keeping himself locked down, Dean could now plainly see that Novak’s question was likely a genuine one, being asked for personal reasons. Then, he turned back to face the wall and rested his eyes as he waited for the man to continue.

“What if you were to find out that you’d been wrong about your father, Dean? What if one day you realized that he really was a murderer but had somehow, I don’t know, fooled you. What if you found out that things weren’t what you’d thought they were… that you’d misunderstood… or been misled… would that change things for you? Would you then change your mind and help bring him to justice? Or would you maintain your loyalty even when you knew the truth?”

There was a single moment of silence when the agent had finished asking his question and then the door started beeping to signal their session coming to and end. When it clunked open, the handlers entered and began to untether him. It felt so good to be able to lower his arms, finally, that he let out a loud groan. Flexing and stretching as he turned to face the man who’d been questioning him. They locked eyes and their gaze remained unbroken as Dean was led from the room. His mouth drifted open with the desire to answer the question as he was led out, but no words came out. Novak’s eyes were glued to him as if there was nothing more important in the world than Dean’s answer to this one theoretical question.

It was a moot point in reality, because Dean knew that his father was a killer. He was too. So was his baby-faced younger brother. But, in considering the agent’s question Dean had to admit that the agent likely hadn't expected an answer. He had probably just wanted Dean to think about his loyalties and how strong they really were. So, he turned his thoughts to the possibility of him turning over his own father if he somehow turned out to be guilty. It was terrifying to realize that he honestly didn’t know.

As he was led to the Salon, Dean tried to get his thoughts together. The questioning was over, he could relax now. But, he’d promised himself that as he was prepped for the Rec Room, he’d start figuring out a plan and set his mind to doing just that. After his first round with Novak he’d floundered around a little, been slow to react. It was understandable, he could see that now because recent events had made him realize just how truly altered he was by the shots and the the juice and whatever else they were giving him here that he’d never paid much attention to before. But, a few days of struggling to even think clearly had helped him see that an accelerated sex drive and natural lube were definitely not the only effects of the chemicals he was ingesting here. He was dull-minded from from them too. Complacent.

Having smoked his fair share of weed back in his high school days, Dean was quite familiar with the contentedly dopey feelings associated with being high on marijuana. Recalling the sensation now, he had to admit a startling similarity between the a maryjane buzz and how he felt all day every day here at the brothel.

On the upside, stressful events over the past few days seemed to have given him a crash course in thinking through the fog and, as he was escorted into the Salon, Dean was mentally preparing himself to stay focused and think things through.

Led to a table in the Salon, Dean was greeted by the unfamiliar face of new recruit. “Dean,” said Lydia, stepping up from the left, “This is Maggie. She’s still in training so I’ll be assisting today.” With that said, she took a step back and he turned his attention to the young, sweet, doe-eyed girl in front of him.

He greeted her with a smirk and his usual swagger, both of which were second nature to him and pretty much his default setting. “Hey Maggie, welcome to the shit show. Or, possibly the greatest show on earth. Depends on the day.”

“Thank you,” she said timidly. Then she glanced over at Lydia as if looking for direction on how to interact with him. He didn’t have to glance in her direction to know that she’d give no assistance to this girl over and above the minimum efforts required to have done her job. Never one to overlook a damsel in distress, Dean picked up the slack.

“I just had a weird client,” he explained. “Dude didn’t wanna fuck, just wanted to talk. It doesn’t happen often, especially not with auction winners, but it’s not unheard of.” That wasn’t even him covering… he’d heard tell of a few others who had a round with the ‘let’s just talk’ kind of clients. He’d just never experienced it for himself. He watched her chuckle as he went on to say, “Since we didn’t bump uglies, I don’t need much. Just maybe some cleanin’ up.”

Dipping his eyes downward pointedly, he invited her to see the mess between his legs because that’s where she should start. Seeming to understand his way of guiding her, she gave him a smile and a friendly nod as she took the lead from his handler and headed over to the drain in the floor. The young girl seemed to relax into his informal instruction and by assisting her through the steps of a normal rejuvenation, he got to the massage table far quicker than he would’ve had he left her to muddle through it with only Lydia’s minimalist directions.

It felt good to be clean again and as he laid himself down on the massage table, Dean said, “I'm pretty fuckin’ sore for a guy who hasn’t been laid, so if you could give some extra love to my neck and shoulders, sweetheart, I’d sure appreciate it.”

“No problem,” she answered, oiling up her hands to get started. She might have been new among the brothel staff, but this girl knew how to give a massage. As she set to work on him, Dean closed his eyes. _I’m gonna miss this_ , he thought. Then, by sheer act of will, he turned his thoughts to an exit plan. He had to get out of here as quickly as possible, that much was clear. Not just away from Hell’s Angels, but completely off the grid. Right now, he was marked as an asset by some agency that was chasing down John Winchester and he needed to get off their radar as soon as fucking possible.

Dean knew that in order to retain full access to his funds and avoid significant financial penalties he’d have to provide adequate notice of his intentions to leave. But, he had no idea what would actually constitute suitable notice or what specific amount of money he’d forfeit if he were to simply walk off the job. Getting answers to those questions was job number one.

Ideally, he’d like to leave immediately. That was something he could do if he was able to make peace with the amount of money he’d lose by doing so. If that were the case then there was no reason to risk staying on any longer.

Already he could feel his body relaxing from the massage and it was tempting to just let himself rest. Instead of surrendering to temptation he picked up his head and addressed Lydia, peering around Maggie to make eye contact. “Hey Lydia,” he said, “I need to make an appointment to speak with someone in HR. You could set that up for me? I mean, that’d give Maggie a chance to see how it’s done, right?”

“Certainly,” she answered. The tone she used was her normal one, cool and indifferent, and as he watched her set aside what she was reading and walk his way, Dean was thinking that she embodied apathy. He wondered if she was this detached in all aspects of her life, or if she just hated her job. Realizing that his mind was beginning to wander, he chastised himself. _Stop it. Focus. Don’t let your mind wander._

Maggie continued working her way down Dean’s spine until Lydia arrived was standing next to her and then she pulled her hands away. Grabbing a towel she dried her hands while turning her attention to the adjacent computer monitor. While the two ladies pulled up the scheduling software, Dean forced himself to lay back down and think.  

He was briefly interrupted when Lydia asked, “Do you care who you see in HR, or do you just want the first available appointment?”

“First available,” he answered, and then as another thought occurred to him, he added, “I also need to set up a time to get into my safe deposit box, but I don’t know who I’d make an appointment with for that.”

“You don’t need an appointment for that,” she said. “Just stop at the desk where you check in and out. They can take you down anytime.”

“Down where? The basement?”

“Yes,” she answered, not even looking at him, “The safe deposit boxes are on the basement level.”

 _Well, Novak, I guess that would explain the guards_ , he thought, grinning as he dropped his head back down to refocus on formulating a plan. It had been afterthought, really, the safe deposit box. He didn’t have anything of value in it other than copies of some important papers. But, before doing anything official regarding resignation, Dean wanted to do more than just get a few of his bigger questions answered. He wanted to carefully look over his employment contracts and the attached disclosures as well. It seemed like a good idea since he’d never really read them in full. Of course he’d skimmed over each section as it was summarized during orientation, but at that time he’d been considering the information from the viewpoint of a man who was joining the company. Now that he was leaving the company, it seemed smart to look over the papers again with that perspective in mind.  

Deep down, Dean hated that money and contracts were even a factor for him when making this decision. But then again, he’d never really had any money before. Prior to landing this gig, Dean had spent most of his life living on fraudulent credit cards, the proceeds of hustling, or, in the most dire of circumstances, the fistful of cash he could earn with his mouth or his ass in a truck stop bathroom. Having a significant amount of money was something he was still getting used to.

Back in his hunting days, Dean had thought of money differently. It had been nothing more than a tool, really, a means of getting things they needed like equipment and ammo, food, lodging, and occasionally medical care. Winchesters got what they needed by any means necessary.

But, once he’d been properly set up with a bank account and regular income, money had started to mean something a little different. It had become part of a two-ingredient dish that fed dreams. Money plus stability, he’d come to find, was the recipe for hope; and hope was what made pipe dreams seem attainable. With his account balances growing, Dean had come to see that in a few years he’d be able to go to school, buy a home, open a business, or do just about anything else he wanted to do. No longer just a means of meeting his immediate needs, money was security now.

So, with all that money had come to mean to him, Dean found himself reluctant to risk it.

Besides, Dean frequently said that he loved his job. And though it wasn’t a lie, it was kind of a half-truth. Sure he loved his job, but at the end of the day it was still a job.

He’d always hated being bought by people with foot fetishes. Just the thought gave him a full-body shiver. He didn’t necessarily like doing excessively hairy people either, though some were certainly worse than others. Older people were also a challenge. Sucking on saggy tits or a ball bag wasn’t his idea of a good time. So, truth be told, there were aspects of the job that he’s had to grit his teeth and tolerate. But, those acts had been far easier to endure when he’d focused on how much money he was making to do them. Naturally that meant that the idea of surrendering a significant chunk of his salary, even after the fact, was repugnant to him.  

More than anything else, what Dean didn’t want to give up was the promise of retirement. Back when he’d been hunting, he had resolutely accepted the probability of an early death. But now, having been away from that world, Dean was starting to get used to the idea that he might actually live a full life… survive long enough to retire… and once he’d embraced that, something had crossed over in him.

His plans regarding said retirement may not have been as elaborate as Benny’s, but he definitely had ideas of how he’d like to round out his days. He could see himself on a beach somewhere warm, wearing cheesy tropical shirts and sipping his drinks from coconut shells rather than straight from the bottle. There would be a lover next to him, a faceless individual whose characteristics he assumed would probably become clearer with time. Sam would be part of this dream too, as were the children his brother would eventually have. Dean sometimes fantasized about being their favorite uncle and building sandcastles on the beach with them. When he daydreamed about taking his brother out on his boat to go fishing in the early mornings, he could practically smell the salty air.  

Dean hadn’t realized just how invested in the future he’d become, not until Agent Novak had shown up. Now he felt scared, truly scared. Not just that his father might be caught and put behind bars, or that he or Sam might be implicated in the perceived crimes, but that he’d wind up having to disappear and leave everything behind. All the possibilities he’d only recently accepted as attainable would be gone in a flash if that happened. It was a frightening thought.

Not one to shy away from scary things, Dean knew he’d take that path if necessary. But, if there was any way to avoid surrendering what he’d accumulated, both fiscally and emotionally, Dean was gonna make a try for it.

Because money,  he’s come to realize, wasn’t just the difference between being hungry and having food. It was also the difference between living with hope and living with despair. Hope, he thought, might just be the drug that eventually replaced the alcohol he’d been leaning on for most of his life.

Dean was deep in thought when oily hands returned to his skin. As his massage resumed, he heard Lydia address him from a few feet away. “You’re all set to see Simmons tomorrow morning.” He didn’t open his eyes to answer, but he managed to mutter his thanks. He was proud of himself for staying focused on the issue at hand and working through it. Now, with a developing plan in the works and his priorities clear, there was nothing else he needed to brainstorm. Once he spoke with Simmons in the morning, he’d have some specifics regarding his departure and what that would look like. In the meantime, he was free to let himself relax. And relax he did.

When Maggie has finished his massage, she prompted him to turn over. Blinking his eyes open for the first time in a while, he caught the look on her face. She seemed scandalized, almost fearful as she looked at his genitals. It was like a bucket of cold water being thrown at him.

Laying on his back on the massage table and looking up at her, he could see his towering hard on from the corner of his eye when he looked at her and she was side-eyeing it too. The girl was so young and sweet that it felt criminal to even be naked around her and with her apprehension so obvious, he couldn’t help but ask, “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-two,” she said shakily.

He’d assumed that she must be of legal age if she was working here, but it never hurt to ask. “What made you wanna work at Hell’s Angels?” he asked, wondering what to do and stalling for time.

“I dropped out of school,” she admitted. “Nursing school. It was harder than I thought and I wasn’t hacking it. I was about to fail out, so I quit. My sister works in a salon and loves her job. So I thought I’d give it a try.”

“Honey, this ain’t no ordinary salon,” he said gruffly.

“I know. But it’s the only one where you don’t have to have cosmetology credentialing to get the job.”

“Did anybody tell you that you’d have to double as a fluffer to work here?”

“Well,” she smiled sheepishly, “they didn’t say it like that, no. But,” she added, gesturing to Dean’s penis, “I was told that prepping was part of the job.”

Nodding his understanding, Dean ventured a guess. “I’m your first, right?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to,” he said firmly. “There are plenty of jobs out there… ones where you don’t have to put your hands on other people's junk.”

She nodded her understanding and tentatively reached for his shaft. “It’s okay,” she said, “I’m okay with it.”

The timidity of her voice still implied reservations, but the firm nod of her head showed conviction. She visibly braced herself and then wrapped her hand around his girth. Dean hated how it felt and he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch. He instinctively knew what the young girl hadn’t said aloud… that none of the other jobs she was qualified for would pay what this one did. She might have reservations, but she knew eventually she’d get used to doing the work and was determined to get over the hump. She wanted the job.

After a few minutes her movements became more confident and Dean relaxed as he realized that once she got used to the job she’d end up laughing and joking with him as she jerked him off, just like Cassie and Charlie and all the others. It was her own choice after all.

Because of her nerves, the young lady was a bit robotic. It was a lousy handjob if there ever was one and Dean wasn’t really enjoying it as much as he was enduring it. Basically, this was uncomfortable for both of them.

Lydia seemed to offer no support or advice. But, from the next station, Dean heard another stylist step over and whisper to the girl, “Just treat it like a puppy. Play with it until it sits up and begs for a treat. When it does, your work is done.”

Giggling softly under her breath, Maggie thanked her supporter and Dean felt her begin to finally relax.

“Atta girl,” he said, trying to reassure her. Opening his eyes he added, “It ain’t as cute as a puppy, but it drools like one.”

They both burst out laughing at that and soon enough he was ready for the Rec Room. Once he’d left the Salon, Dean felt his anticipation spiking. His body had been kept waiting far too long, and now that his mind was free to be present in the moment rather than planning his exit, Dean felt his excitement surge. Though his stomach still carried the dull ache of desire unfulfilled, the rest of his body was brimming with lust and eager to fuck. The tip of his cock was wet with excretions and as he walked, cool air rushed over it. The feeling was erotic and sent anticipatory tingles spreading over his skin.

He was wet between his cheeks too, his body still oozing lube and his expectant hole trembling in its desire to be spread open around something warm and wide. Stepping in through the employees entrance, Dean smelled sex in the air. His eyes lit up as they gazed out over the first room and the bodies scattered about in various stages of carnal pleasure. Around him, the filthy sounds of slapping skin, debauched moans, and murmured curses swirled with background music to entice him into the room.

With his cock leading the way like a divining rod, Dean moved through the space. He didn’t rush but rather took his time, that way if any of the groups wanted to pull him into a raunchy fuck pile, they’d have their chance. His collar marked him for what he was - the public property of everyone who had paid to use this room. Pushing two fingers down between the leather and his neck, Dean tugged a little and thought to himself, _I’m gonna fuckin’ miss this_.

Dean had never known he had a kink for collars until he’d worn one here. But now he knew that he liked being owned, dominated, even punished. Craved it. Being spanked was another thing he’d never realized he had a penchant for until he’d ventured into sex work.

Normally, he would pass right by the library room. But today he found himself slowing to get a better look at the action going on inside. Hesitating only for a moment, he was soon stepping in through the wide doorway. With measured steps, he approached the group that had caught his eye.

Getting closer, he began to sort out what was happening. There was a customer on the table. She was probably in her mid-forties and dressed as a librarian would dress if she were a porn star. Her curvy frame was well endowed, ample breasts bursting from her white collared shirt which was currently opened to the third or fourth button.

Perched on the table with a riding crop in hand, this woman had her tight skirt hiked up all the way to expose the garters that held up her thigh-high stockings.

Her legs were spread wide and between them was one of Dean’s fellow collared whores. The man was bent down with his face buried to exuberantly eat her out. “Shhh,” she told him, dragging the riding crop over his tanned, naked skin. Tracing the line of his spine up and down with it, she got lower each time. The man’s legs were spread wide and as Dean skirted the group who stood watching, he came around behind to get a look at the man’s ass. It was decorated with bright red splotches where he’d already been struck and at the moment his winking hole was exposed for all to see. It quivered, seemingly fearful of being whipped, but Dean knew better. He knew how this felt.

His eyes traveled hungrily over the man’s ass and the cock that hung beneath him, slowly dribbling opaque liquid to the library's hardwood floor. The ‘librarian’ customer was obviously enjoying both her audience and her contentedly submissive whore. Dean’s throat went dry as he watched her tease that riding crop down the man’s back, between his cheeks, and over his hole. She was a natural dominatrix, he thought, commanding in presence and creative when playing. With a firm but soft voice, she reminded her subjugate that he must be quiet in the library - then she then snapped the crop to his puckered hole several times in quick succession.

Jerking in surprise, the man’s entire body quivered and shook while absorbing the stinging sensation to such a sensitive and vulnerable area. Another ribbon of pearlescent ejaculate slipped from the man’s cock, twisting elegantly as it fell to the floor. As he saw it happen, Dean’s own dick pulsed a few dribbles too. He desperately wanted a turn.

Edging closer to try and catch the Dom’s eye, Dean hoped she’d call him forward.

Their eyes eventually connected and he smirked to show his confidence but also dipped his chin to demonstrate his willingness to submit. Sadly, though she sent him an approving look, she didn’t give him any sign that he was welcome to join.

Disappointed, Dean stepped back. He remained for a minute or two, watching with the rest of the onlookers, but soon wandered off. Weaving through the maze of rooms, Dean skirted around a few clusters of activity that didn’t appeal to him before ducking into one of the rooms that was geared towards the bdsm lifestyle.

Though Dean had no aversion to these rooms, he didn’t typically spend much time in them. In his experience, the scenes that took place here were often focused on delaying orgasm in favor of experiencing other sensations first… long teasing sessions, orgasm delay or denial, and most frequently, pain.

But, given what he’d just witnessed in the library, Dean was craving impact play and hoped to find something interesting here. He was not disappointed. There were several dominant males prowling the room, one in full gear, and Dean boldly crossed the open floor to kneel down on the spanking bench. Glancing over his shoulder at one particular customer, Dean waited for the man’s eyes to fall on him. When they did, he let their gaze lock and then leaned forward over the heavy wooden bench, resting his abdomen on the tilted cushion and reaching back to massage his own ass. Teasingly, he spread his butt cheeks apart in a display of invitation that he hoped would be tempting while also indicative of the type of play he was hoping to engage in.

The man he’d locked eyes with was tall and tan with a medium build similar to Dean’s own. He had the look of a European and was dressed in dark jeans and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His forearms were inked and his dark eyes promised dirty deeds. Dean was thrilled when the man ran a hand through his shiny hair and began walking over. Bringing his hands back forward again, Dean rested his elbows on the padded supports. Now, positioned properly on the bench, he was basically on all fours but with his ass presented much higher than his shoulders.

“Don’t speak other than your safe word,” said the man when he approached, “I know what you want.”

Dean tipped his head in acknowledgement, giving his safeword as the man bent down to draw velcro straps around his wrists and ankles. His pulse quickened as he was restrained and his stomach clenched in excitement. The man needed a name, even if Dean wasn’t permitted to speak, and as he turned his head to watch the last strap be pulled into place, he settled upon calling him ‘Darkeyes’.

He breathed deeply to calm himself and repeated the action several more times as he consciously worked to bring his galloping heart back into a more steady rhythm. As he waited for the first touch Dean could feel his asshole, juicy and eager, tensing and relaxing in turn as it tried to be patient. His cock, practically hidden under the bench and all but forgotten, was heavy and leaking and he almost felt sorry for it. _Serves you right little bastard_ , thought Dean, remembering the way it had betrayed him earlier in favor of Agent Novak.

Walking around in front of Dean, Darkeyes stepped up to the adjacent toy cabinet. The man perused it’s contents carefully, his thumb and pointer finger pressed to his chin as he considered the tools at his disposal. Watching was suspenseful with Dean so invested in which item the man would choose. He wanted his hole snapped and he wanted it badly. Sadly, what the man selected was a flogger.

Irritated, Dean dropped his head to the cushion and readied himself to wait out this first level of the game they were going to be playing. To his surprise, the flogger wound up being a good warm up. The man was skilled with it, first dusting Dean’s back and flanks with barely-there repetitions to warm his skin and then artfully moving circles around the bench as he executed a smooth figure eight pattern in the air and progressively increased the amount of contact as his subject responded.

With his skin properly heated and his body singing with pleasure, Dean groaned wantonly with his eyes closed, fully immersed in the experience now. Even though he hadn’t wanted to play a waiting game when he’d knelt down here, he soon surrendered to the hands of this customer who was clearly a gifted Dom. That was rare, in Dean’s experience. For the most part, customers in the Rec Room were rookies in the art of BDSM, bored housewives and curious executives who were stressed at work and seeking an outlet. Between the library chick and Darkeyes, Dean had to wonder if perhaps a local BDSM club had decided to hit the brothel together today. _My lucky day._

Dean was fuzzy by the time his Dom changed toys. Drifting in the dark with his eyes closed, he’d been enjoying the heat that crackled under his skin and the fire in his belly, he’d been blissfully unaware that a change was imminent.  His first clue was a gentle hand coming to rest on his heated flank. He didn’t open his eyes, too lost in pleasurable floating to allow reality to intrude. But he did lift his head in acknowledgement. Taking a moment to appraise his body while vaguely alert, Dean adjusted his knees and elbows as well. Then, he surrendered again to the soft humming darkness around him as he waited for the next sensation. His mind identified the new tool quickly by its sound and feel. A leather slapper.

The noise it made was sexy as hell, a strong clapping type of sound that elicited excitement and a strong physical reaction despite delivering a relatively dull pain that was quite tolerable. His talented Dom alternated the power behind his strikes as well as the location of them as he peppered Dean with pops to his butt cheeks and flanks. But, what really got Dean excited was the feel of a firm hand on his ass. _Yes_ , he was thinking, _yesyesyesyesyesyessss_.  That hand did exactly what he wanted it to… it spread his glutes apart.

Cool air seemed to race over his wet crack in the moment and beneath him Dean felt his cock spring up and give a mighty leap of excitement when the first tap of leather met his newly exposed flesh. The first swat landed just above his hole, the second right below it. The next he’d eagerly anticipated and his body must’ve shown it too because his Dom seemed to know how invested Dean was in this moment… how badly he’d been wanting it. He made it count.

The accuracy of the strike was perfection and the ecstacy it delivered was indescribable. A snap of electricity originated at the point of contact and Dean felt his hungry hole explode. He screamed out in delight as it happened. The sound choked off in a gurgle as his throat tightened and tears of joy sprang up.

He didn’t open his eyes, choosing instead to just enjoy the wetness gathering among his eyelashes. The moisture pooled heavily and then began to spill over, rivulets tickling their way down his overheated face. Dean groaned in the aftermath and felt a satisfied smile spread across his face as the heat migrated out from where he’d been struck to engulf the surrounding tissue. He hoped his Dom would enjoy the appearance of the pain and the rapture as both simultaneously coexisted on his face. _More_ , he thought, setting his weight against the restraints, _I need more_.  He eagerly tilted his hips to push his ass upwards expectantly.

He’d been hoping for more, and ‘more’ was exactly what he was given. Darkeyes brought Dean to the very edge, dishing out complex patterns of swats to the quivering globes of his ass and the wet crack between them, before finally striking his impatient hole again.

During a brief period of rest, Dean once more adjusted his knees and elbows. When a gentle hand touched his face, he couldn’t help but lean into it and accept the kindly administered reassurance it offered as it cupped his cheek and held him for a moment before swiping away his tear tracks.

Then, when Darkeyes began the next round of sensual punishment, he did so with a crop. Thrilled beyond measure, Dean rocked in his restraints as he absorbed the stinging snaps. He knew the licks were probably turning his skin from a blushing pink to a fiery red and even the thought of what he must look like sent a shiver of delight through him.

Bowing his body as he fought the urge to scream again, Dean rode the upward crescendo of pain because he knew with certainty that this man would give him what he wanted at the tipping point.

When the moment came, Dean felt his left butt cheek pulled to side and held there by an iron hand. Waiting was torture. His entire ass was aflame, fire burning through his lower body and blazing hottest near his eager entrance. Dean waited for the inevitable, holding his breath. He felt Darkeyes blow a cool breath over his smouldering skin but dared not open his eyes. His hole clenched and twitched as a few snaps landed just adjacent to his puckered rim.

When the finale finally came, a hailstorm of expertly targeted thrashes to the very center of his most vulnerable place, Dean did scream. He screamed loud and long, every cell in his body on fire as his hips wriggled in vein and his puckered entrance exploded violently. Jerking and twisting in his straps, Dean wept like a child as he succumbed to the power of this masterful Dom.

Darkeyes didn’t stop until Dean collapsed limp, his body completely spent and his voice hoarse and rasping as he nearly gagged on his own saliva. On the dizzying verge of passing out, Dean clung desperately to consciousness. He didn’t want to miss a moment of this ecstasy by blacking out. As the reverberations rolled over him, Dean rode the waves of pleasure and pain, both sensations twisting and tangling together as they battled for his attention.

“You may speak now,” said a vaguely familiar voice from five worlds away. It was his dark-eyed Dom. Technically, the man was his customer. But in this moment, a coin toss would be required to determine which of them had served the other… at least, that’s how it seemed to Dean. He was exponentially grateful to have such an acute need be so adequately met.

“Th-Thank you,” he managed to whisper. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you.”

“You were incredible,” said the man softly, petting Dean’s hair.

Aftercare wasn’t something that Doms paying to use the Rec Room were obligated to provide. For that reason, Dean wasn’t surprised when he was given a softly whispered goodbye and left alone on the bench. Darkeyes probably already had his eyes on someone else now that the big moment was over. If he were capable of lifting his head or opening his eyes, perhaps he’d see the man across the room engaging one of Dean’s co-workers and gearing up for round two. Hell, it was equally possible that the man had hurried home to have dinner with his family. Regardless, since the customer had exited without seeing to Dean, he was provided expert follow-up care by the staff.

As he was released from his restraints and lifted away, his eyes fluttered open long enough to see the heavy splattering of cum underneath the bench. Actually seeing the evidence of his mind bending orgasm was thrilling and he felt his dick twitch as if to say, “Yep, I put that there.”

Eventually he was moved back to the Salon where his aftercare slowly transitioned into a standard rejuvenation.

He may have had a pretty incredible orgasm on that spanking bench, but still, the day was half gone and he hadn’t been fucked. Dean strode back into the Rec Room like a man on a mission. He kept his chin high and his shoulders squared and set his sights on getting laid in every single room at least once.

In the front room he wasted no time, grabbing the hips of an older man who seemed needy. With pants unzipped and riding low on his hips, it was obvious what he wanted and Dean felt inclined to give it. The moment that Dean grabbed hold, the guy bent forward willingly. Thrilled to be given the opportunity to top, Dean grinned as he tugged the customers pants down. Then, his smile pread wider when he caught sight of a plug nestled between milky white butt cheeks.

On another day he might've taken the time to have a little fun, played around a bit with the plug and maybe indulged in some dirty foreplay, but not today. He purposefully pulled out the toy and dropped it at their feet. When the man looked over his shoulder, it was obvious that he was thrilled to have a young stud like Dean take an interest in him. He pressed is bare ass against Dean's groin and whimpered, “Please?”

Groaning aloud as he sank in, Dean pulled back slowly and sensually. Rolling his hips as he repeatedly sank into the man’s inviting warmth, his cock grew even harder as the tight constriction around his shaft momentarily took his breath away. He reached orgasm quickly and when he’d blown his load, Dean stayed snugly sheathed. His fingers gripped tightly to the clients hips as he felt another man’s warmth behind him.

Pressing backwards in welcome, Dean felt his stomach curl erotically as his slippery hole was gently prodded from behind. Rocking from side to side, Dean made it easy for the newcomer to slide into him, relishing the way his entrance tingled as it was stretched over a hard dick and then clenched down on it. His cock pulsed warmly into the body ahead of him, coming for a second time as the man who’d entered him from behind slowly began to rock inside of him. Once more, the man that Dean was fucking whispered, “Please?” and, once more, Dean obliged. Again thrusting into an eager entrance, Dean smiled contentedly and the three of them enjoyed a long and leisurely screw.

A few orgasms later Dean was braced against the wall in the library. The incredible dominatrix he’d been watching before might have been gone, but there was still plenty of action to watch. Lisa was on her back nearby, getting fucked on a table that was just out of reach. They exchanged smiles when they noticed one another and then watched each other as they let themselves be used. Dean was content to watch Lisa’s breasts bounce around as he was pounded in the ass and she seemed to enjoy watching him jack himself off as he was fucked.

Next he fucked a mousy little housewife in the bedroom, glad for the quieter and more restful exchange which almost felt like a late afternoon break. Then, renewed, he fucked the shit out of a little twink who’d said this was his first time paying for sex.

The delicate young man had begged and screamed and carried on while Dean laid into him and he’d enjoyed watching the young man’s small and flaccid cock roll around as he fucked hard and worked up a sweat.

This time when he came, Dean pulled out so he could spray his load all over the kid’s hole. It was impossible to repress the wide grin on his lips as he dragged his fingers through his cream and smeared his spend on a hot young taint.

This was a damned good day so far, one of his best ever. Moving back and forth between the Rec Room and the Salon as needed, Dean enjoyed every single fuck as if it were his last and when the day drew to its close, he headed for his favorite spot of all - the billiards room.

With an eager blonde woman on her knees and excited to blow him, Dean guided his width to her lips and smiled as she licked them and opened for him. Sinking in felt so fucking good and hoping for more Dean preened his ass towards passers-by. Soon enough, an interested party stepped up and Dean leaned forward over the woman fellating him to brace himself on the edge of the pool table. Spreading his legs wide, he offered his juicy hole for the taking. His agreeable partner seemed fine with the development, her wide eyes taking in the scene as she continued to suck him off.

Being speared was almost always a shiver inspiring moment and this one proved more so because of the width of the man behind him. One by one, Dean took on the long line of men that soon formed, each of whom stepped up to take a turn with him. He climaxed again and again as he was fucked and continued on long after his female client had grown tired of swallowing his loads.

With his time in the brothel coming to an end, he was determined to go out on a high note, and Dean continued taking man after man until eventually he collapsed forward onto the pool table. With his sweaty chest supported by green felt, he spread his legs even farther as he rested there and called over his shoulder for those behind him to start taking him two at a time.

Like a porn star, Dean stretched for the double penetration like a champ. He nearly came just from the feeling of a second cock pushing its way inside and then came several times in quick succession when the actual thrusting began.

His jizz repeatedly spattered the side of the pool table only to dribble to the floor and puddle there. His back started getting sore and his knees grew weak, but Dean kept on. Despite the long train of men he’d run through, no orgasm satisfied him. With the passing of each, he simply began hoping for another and another and another.

At some point, someone climbed up onto the pool table and knelt to thrust his dick in Dean’s face, which he gladly opened up for. When it struck the back of his throat, Dean knew he was about to come again and he sucked hard as he approached yet another climax.

Having two fat cocks see-saw in and out of him was similar to being scissored open but on a much grander scale and he was entertaining the idea of offering to let a third man try and push his way in when he began to grow light headed. The last thing he remembered was the onset of tunnel vision. Craving just one more orgasm before giving in, Dean fought the encroaching blackness that now crept up from all sides, but he wound up losing the battle.

When he woke, Dean was in the Salon with Anna by his side. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she said, greeting him with her own unique version of a smirk. He stretched like a cat, enjoying the residual buzz that still hummed beneath his skin. Turning onto his side, Dean curled into the fetal position and gave his full attention to his favorite nurse. “How was your day?” she asked him.

“S’been good so far,” he smiled at her. “I take it I passed out again?”

“That’s becoming a bit of a habit with you,” she said teasingly, her eyes drifting away from the computer screen to meet his for a moment and then returning to it.

“Well, I’m just glad someone’s there to pick me up when I go down,” he chuckled.

She was still typing, but gave a nod to indicate she was listening. As he orientated himself, he saw his stylist nearby, it was Cassie, and she was busying herself with the cleaning and organizing of her supplies at the moment. When she glanced over at him, he gave her a wink and she smiled in return.

“I’ve been looking at the data in your chart,” said Anna, pivoting to face him on her little rolling stool. “Your blood pressure seems to be consistently on the low end of the allowable range. I think that may be part of the reason that you’re passing out with increasing frequency. Additionally, you often decline liquids when offered.”

“M’sorry,” he said, “I’ll try to drink more. It’s just… the water here tastes funny to me. I don’t care for it. But I’ll try. Will that keep my blood pressure higher?”

“It might. But I’d like to try giving you supplemental fluids each day for a week and see if that doesn’t keep you on your feet a little better.”

“How’s that gonna work?” he asked her.

“Just like this,” she answered, indicating his arm. Following her gaze, Dean’s eyes traveled down from the bend in his elbow to his wrist where he now noticed that an IV had been inserted while he was passed out.

“It’s just SalPlus,” she told him. We use two types of Saline here, normal saline, or NoSal for short, and SalPlus which is saline plus. NoSal is used in hospitals to give fluids and SalPlus is simply an enhanced version that we use here. It’s our own cocktail that includes, among other things, a trace amount of opiate. You can probably feel its effects.”

Dean nodded as he realized that was probably the soft buzzing that he’d been enjoying since he woke.

“I’m ordering SalPlus for you daily at your second rejuvenation,” she said, reaching over to pat his shoulder reassuringly. “This way, you won’t have to choke down a bunch of water you don’t want, and I can be sure that you’ll be adequately hydrated.”

“Okay,” he agreed easily. “Good deal.” _One more thing to look forward too_ , he thought, _a nice buzz every afternoon. Damn I’m gonna miss this place._

Turning away from him to focus on her computer again, the pretty strawberry blonde typed up the last of her notes and then stood. “You’re resting tomorrow and the next day,” she said as she began to roll her computer cart away, “but when you’re back, I’m scheduled to be here. So, I’ll try to be the one who gives you your fluids that day.”

“I’m off tomorrow? It feels like I was just off yesterday.”

“You were, remember? You were scheduled to work but took the day off?”

“Oh yeah,” he groaned, irritated to remember that tomorrow wasn’t even a sex day. “Guess I better get back in the Rec Room and get me some, huh? Last chance for days.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, peeling back the tape to remove his IV, “I’m sorry but the Rec Room is closed. It’s almost five am.”

“It is?”

“Sure is,” she nodded, handing him a pill and glass of juice. “By the time I sign my computer cart back in, my shift will be over.”

He popped the pill and tossed back the juice, handing the little plastic cup back to her. It wasn’t easy to accept that his last chance for sex had slipped past him while he’d been unconscious. “Fuck,” he groaned, flopping down.

“You’re going to get sleepy soon,” added Anna as she turned away from him, pushing her cart down the aisle, “don’t fight it, Dean. Just get some rest.”

He didn’t answer her or say goodnight, which wasn’t like him. But he was frustrated. This, after all, might’ve been his last fucking day. More than anything else right now, Dean wanted one more fuck.

He didn’t even care who it was or what they got up to… he just wanted to get hard again. He wanted to feel his dick swing heavy between his legs; he wanted to feel his hole spread wide again. Right now, all he wanted was to lose himself in the heady sensations of dick and ass, both of which were infinitely better when combined with the unique sensation that lit up inside him when a cock slid in to stimulate his sweet spot.

“Fuck,” he cursed again, banging his fist angrily on the cushioned table.  

“Aw, c’mon,” said Cassie, stepping up beside him. He’d actually forgotten she was there for a minute. “A day off can be nice. You like calling your brother, right? That’s something you always look forward to.”

“I s’pose it is,” he agreed, reluctantly redirecting his mind from sex to family. And, yeah, he could call Sammy tomorrow if he wanted. Use his regular cell to call his brothers regular cell. Make small talk. It wasn’t like them, but it might be nice to just hear the kid’s voice - maybe just ask him how school was going and see how he sounded when answering; what his tone implied.

“If you turn over,” said Cassie warmly, “I’ll give you a little massage to get you ready for sleep.”

“Thanks,” he said, glad she was willing to be kind to him when he was clearly irritable and frustrated. The friends he’d made among the staff and other workers were yet another thing he was going to miss when he left this place.

As usual, coming down takes some adjusting to. Dean might not be used to thinking of it in those terms, but the reference is definitely applicable. Having been riding a sexually charged high during his sex days, the contrast of resting days was unsettling. It often left him feeling a bit morose. Previously he’d assumed that a lack of sex was the root cause of his dip in mood. But now that he’d begun to pay closer attention, Dean had to admit that simply going a few days without sex had never pulled him into a melancholy mood before… only after he’d started in sex work had that begun to happen. At this point it was beginning to seem more logical that the downshift in his moods was attributable to coming off of the medications rather than simply going without sex.

Ushered off to bed without an injection, Dean was left feeling deflated… as if there was nothing to look forward to. Luckily, he was worn out enough that sleep came quickly. Without the erotic dreams induced by his daily shot, he slept through the night and woke feeling rested. However, upon waking, he was still surrounded by horny men, all of whom were naked and vibrating with lust as they eagerly anticipated a day of unlimited carnal pleasure. It was hard not to be jealous of them. He was hungry too, but before he was given an opportunity to eat there was drudgery to slog through and while he was eating there was the inevitable humiliation of soiling a diaper. Sadly, that indignity was witnessed by the attendant who was assigned to accompany him. In addition to cleaning the mess, the attendant documented everything from his food choices to the color and consistency of his bowel movement. The whole thing was a shit show. Literally.

At least the food was pretty damned good. Once the most cringeworthy part of the day was over, Dean was able to enjoy eating.

Overindulging in food left him feeling tired and sluggish, which really wasn’t unusual. But, today he didn’t have the option of lingering in a comfy chair to scan headlines or call his brother. No, today he had an appointment in HR.

As much as he wanted to sit down with someone and get his questions answered, a general sense of uncertainty settled over him when Dean was led to a section of the compound he hadn’t seen in a very long time. The administration wing. Sleek and modern and decorated in a crisp white palette, the place seemed formidable. As they paused in the hallway outside of a closed door, Dean stood staring at the nameplate that indicated this to be the office of D. Simmons. When his handler’s knock was answered with an order to “Enter,” Dean was ushered in and given a seat before the handler made his exit. “You’ll buzz me when you’d like me to retrieve him?” asked the man. Simmons barely acknowledged him. Looking up at the British man he remembered as Mick, Dean was the one to nod agreement and give him the dismissal he seemed to want before allowing himself to turn and leave.

Looking around, Dean entertained a passing thought that this room was just as sterile as the halls outside of it. The woman, D. Simmons he assumed, didn’t acknowledge him for quite some time. Devoid of emotion, her attention was locked on her computer screen. Her smooth skin made her seem young at first glance. As did her jet black hair which was tightly coiled into shiny little ringlets, the style reminiscent of an afro but dramatically updated with bold layering. Overall, she embodied a youthful and fashion-forward young woman. But, her style simply couldn’t compensate for the stern face and cold indifference that Dean thought marked her as being quite a bit older than she may have initially appeared to be.

When she finally turned to face him, he waited for her to speak first. But, rather than appreciate his attempt to be polite she leaned forward over the desk that separated them and spoke condescendingly.

“I could use some direction here,” she snipped at him. “Literally _any_ direction. Were you planning to speak, or am I meant to guess why you’re here?”

Caught off guard by both her callousness and the utter contempt in her eyes, Dean fumbled. Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, he tried again. “I just, I uh, I’m considering leaving the company and would like to get some details about the how that usually plays out.”

“Why would you want to leave the company,” she demanded sharply, as though no one had ever done that before.

“Well, I guess,” he replied, fighting his lethargy, “I guess it’s a family thing.” Then, trying to recover his normal confidence and swagger, Dean added, “And my reasons aren’t what I came here talk about. I wanna talk about my options.”

“You don’t have any. The language of your contract outlines everything and you will not find the company flexible on the terms of your employment.”

Wow. What a bitch. “I don’t have a copy of my contract handy,” he said calmly, hoping to force her into treating him decently. “Could you maybe look me up in the computer and go over the finer points with me?”

“I suppose that is my job, isn’t it,” she said, voice dripping with irritation she wasn’t bothering to hide. “Employee ID number?”

“03467.”

“Alright,” she said, appearing to skim over his information. “You’re in the Stay and Play program which has some additional provisions over and above a standard contract.” He watched her as she clicked a few keys and then turned in her swivel chair to pull a stack of papers from the tray of a printer. She flipped through the pages, pulling a pen from behind her ear to add marks here and there. “Here,” she said, when handing it across the desk to him, “This is a copy of your contract. Why don’t you do what you should’ve done when you were hired and read it over. I’ve marked the sections pertaining to separation from the company.”

“Thanks,” he said, flashing her a wide smile, “You’re a real peach, ya know that?”

“A peach,” she repeated flatly. “I hope you’re not trying to flirt with me.”

“Definitely not,” he said cooly, leaning back in his chair. He didn’t look up at her again, his eyes eagerly devouring the text, but he did hear it when her chair rolled back to its starting position. He assumed that she’d returned her attention to whatever task his scheduled meeting had interrupted, but he didn’t bother checking to be sure.

Starting at the beginning, Dean skipped past most everything in favor of focusing on the paragraphs with little scribbled stars next to them. It wasn’t light reading. Full of legalese, the document seemed to talk in circles rather than come to a point. Full of provisos and stipulations, each paragraph read like a run-on sentence from hell.

The first section was challenging but he was able to get through it. The basic point seemed to be that he couldn’t sue or file a regulatory complaint against the company upon leaving. Moving on to the next section, Dean was able to glean that working for a competing company was forbidden and so was sharing any insider information. The document mentioned strict penalties for breaking this rule, both civil and criminal. The fine amounts and jail times quoted were reflected as minimums and maximums and they were staggering. But, since Dean didn’t plan on selling any trade secrets, working for a competitor, or sueing Hell’s Angels, none of this really applied to him.

A sharp knocking at the door jerked Dean from his intense study of the contract and he jerked his head up. Simmons did the same, her head turning towards the door. Before she could even say, “Come in,” someone entered boldly. Looking this new arrival up and down, Dean’s eyes traveled over a very expensive suit whose perfect fit indicated custom tailoring and landed on the face of the owner. “Hello, Mr. Crowley,” said Simmons, her already stiff posture snapping to exaggerated attention. “What can I do for you?”

“I needed that file,” he replied. Dean had always loved the man’s accent. Even without it he would’ve been sexy despite his age and build. Maybe he was just sexy because he was powerful… it was hard to tell. But Dean let his eyes rove over the man as he contemplated the matter. He hadn’t realized that his mind had drifted off until it was yanked back. He was being addressed. “...Mr. Winchester, right?”

“Yeah?” he replied with uncertainty. He had no idea what had been said to him, only that he’d been addressed by name.

“One of my top stars,” the man purred, inclining his head. The gesture seemed to convey respect, though his leering smile harbored anything but. “Shouldn’t you be down in the Auction House making us both rich?”

“It’s a resting day for me,” he replied, trying to hold the man’s eye rather than be caught checking him out.

“He’s quitting,” said Simmons, breaking between the two of them with the sharpness of her tone. He looked at her incredulously, stunned that she’d interrupted so blatantly and that she’d chosen the word ‘quitting’ rather than ‘resigning’ or simply just ‘leaving’.

Crowley looked at her as well, and Dean couldn’t see his face when he spoke, but he knew the words were intended for him even if the man was no longer looking directly at him. “Quitting? This place is a gold mine. What on earth could tear a man away from the kind of money you’re making here?”

“Family issues,” he said without blinking. It was a true statement and he just hoped that Mr. Crowley wouldn’t press for details because Dean had no intention of giving specifics and he’d rather not have to fabricate a lie spur of the moment.

“I see,” said Crowley to Dean. Then, turning away, the owner of Hell’s Angels leaned over the desk as he addressed Simmons. “I need that file. You should’ve received an email this morning.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, rising from her chair and crossing the room. “I went over it as requested and there are red tabs indicating the areas that I think require your attention.” Taking a thick and heavy file folder from a its resting place on a bookcase, she handed it to him as if it contained fine china and not just an inch-thick stack of papers. As she gave their boss what he’d come for, Dean noticed that Simmons’s entire demeanor had changed. For Dean, she’d been gruff and irritable. But for Crowley, she was washed over with the desire to please.

When he left, they both watched him go. “Don’t waste your time,” she told him. “You’re not even on his radar.”

It was hard to keep his face from falling. “What?”

“He’s got a type,” she smirked, “and you’re not it.”

“That so?” he challenged, knowing she was wrong. The man had always looked at him with thinly veiled desire. The feeling was mutual and Dean had been waiting for the time to be right. “What’s his type then?”

“Someone who can do something for him,” she replied, her coldness returning now that her boss was gone.

“You’ve got no idea what I can do for a man,” Dean threw back at her boldly.

“He called you a star,” she smirked. “Do you need me to translate that for you?”

“Knock yourself out, sweetheart, I know you’re dyin’ to tell me.”

“If you’re a star,” she said, returning her attention to the computer, “that means you’re making money. He wants what you can earn for him far more than he actually wants you.” She was giving the impression of someone who was too busy to be bothered with discussing something so trivial, but he could see right through it. He waited a moment without responding because he knew she’d continue eventually, and he was right. “Guys like you never get a turn until you’re all used up and ready to be thrown away.”

“Well then, I guess I’ve got somethin’ to look forward to,” he retorted, “in a decade or two.”

In response to that, she let out a single huff of laughter as if to imply that his response had been absurd. He didn’t bother continuing with her, choosing instead to look back down at the papers he still had clutched in his hand.

Flipping to the next section, Dean found himself growing frustrated as he tried to decipher it. Sadly, this one actually seemed applicable to him. “What does this mean?” he asked, holding up the contact and pointing to the section in question.

“I can’t read it from here,” she said, making no move to come closer or take the pages from him.

“Okay then,” he said, barely holding his patience, “it says ‘incrementally decrease discretionary bonuses’, and I wanna know specifically what that means.”

“There are tables you can refer to,” she said icily. “You find the page number for each applicable table in the annotations for the corresponding section.”

“Is this really all the help I’m going to get?” he challenged, dropping the papers to her desk. “Maybe I should just speak with someone else.”

“There’s not much else to say,” she told him. “If you have a specific scenario you’d like to run by me, then I can make sure you’re looking at the correct table. But without specifics, there’s not much I can do to help you.”

“Okay then,” he relented, hoping she would be reasonable if he gave her more information. “What if,” he tried, softening his tone, “what if I was to leave, say, tonight? What if I just said, ‘Hey, I gotta go, sorry but it’s an emergency and I can’t put in two weeks notice?”

“Adequate notice is deemed to be thirty working days, not two calendar weeks,” she told him without even looking. “And you’ll consult several tables to compile the complete list of penalties for that. Let’s start with section thirty-two,” she said, pulling the pages towards her. “Here,” she added, pushing a blank sheet of paper and pen towards him, “feel free to take notes. I don’t like repeating myself.”

Ten minutes later, Dean was sinking in his chair under the weight of his compounded penalties. Between the lack of notice for his departure, his intention to withdraw all funds from the company accounts immediately, and the fact that he could produce no documentation to prove that the ‘emergency’ necessitating his departure was verifiable as something ‘company approved’, he was going to lose more than half of what he’d earned during his tenure at the brothel.

“You see,” explained Simmons callously, “the actual wages paid aren’t anything to write home about. The bulk of what is earned here at Hell’s Angels and our affiliated venues is paid out in bonuses. You get incentive pay for participating in auctions, spending time in the Rec Room, indulging in recognized kinks, attending parties and things of that nature. Bonus pay is often doubled or tripled when activities overlap… I’m sure you’ve seen how that can snowball into some pretty enviable numbers. For example, you might only spend an hour or ninety minutes with someone who won your auction… but for that one interlude you would receive your base pay, plus the bonus pay for participating in the auction, plus the additional funds awarded for hazard pay when pain kinks are involved, as well as a multiplier if special skills are needed for the session, and additional funds for each mark that didn’t fade within twenty four hours. So, that one single session might’ve only carried a base wage of forty-five dollars, but when you add up the additional funds secured in incentives, the proceeds equal over eight hundred dollars. And that’s with only one lingering bruise.”

“Yeah,” he said, slumping despite his best efforts, “I get how it works now.”

“Another thing to consider is tenure. I’m sure you’re aware that as the number of years of service grows, so does the multiplier applied to both your straight pay and incentives. That’s why your income has continued to grow with time. But, if a worker leaves the company, and then returns, they have to start over. So, Mr. Winchester, if you’re planning to leave for any reason other than the emergency circumstances listed specifically in your contract, you will indeed forfeit a large portion of the funds that have been deposited into your company account. I’m sure you’ve noticed when checking your balances that there are two numbers listed each time?”

“Yeah.”

“One is the ‘vested balance’ and the other is the ‘available’ balance.”

“Yeah. And I suppose that if I just quit without notice, I can only expect to leave with the ‘available balance’ right?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to make a generalization like that, but I think you’re getting the picture.”  
“Sonovvah Bitch!” he shouted, slamming his fist down on her desk.

“Mr. Winchester, do I strike you as someone to do you any favors?”

“You strike me as a cold bitch who would eat her young,” he snarled.

She didn’t respond at all, reclining back in her chair with a smug look on her face. When she crossed her arms over her chest, she had to retract her hand from under the desk and at that moment, Dean realized that she’d hit a panic button. Security was likely on its way and if there was a camera on him, it was now recording. Already it had captured him aggressively leaning over her desk and if he didn’t immediately sit down and be quiet, he would only be hurting himself. Hoping to minimize the consequences of his outburst, Dean sat down and willed himself to contain his seething hatred and personify a cooperative employee.

Both he and Simmons remained silent for the forty to sixty seconds that it took for armed guards to come pushing through the door. _I could’ve killed you and been out the door before they even got here,_ he thought. On the outside, he was trying to appear contrite as he apologized to everyone in the room for his outburst and reminded them that normally he was quite well behaved. “I’m just havin’ a hard time right now,” he explained, “family stuff…”

“We understand,” said the lead man, “but an incident report will have to be filed.”

“Naturally,” he said, hoping that the false tone he was using wasn’t as sickening to everyone else as it was to his own ears.

“And we’ll stay for the duration of your meeting as well,” added the security team’s leader, giving a reassuring nod to Simmons as if she were some soft hearted schoolgirl rather than a stone cold shrew Dean had been dealing with from the beginning. Knowing he’d been beaten, Dean gave a nod of agreement and dropped his eyes back to the contracts on the desk.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing with his hand that he’d like to pick up the papers and still retain his hand. Granted permission, he made a show of picking them up carefully and then pulled them into his lap when he sat down.

If reading the fine print of his contract and disclosure agreements had been challenging before, it was damn near impossible now that he was so worked up. Dean caught himself re-reading the same gibberish over and over as he tried to ascertain the full extent of how thoroughly horse-fucked he actually was right now.

By signing these documents, Dean realized now, he’d basically sold his soul to the brothel. Even if he’d been able to provide the required notice, there were deductions made for half a dozen other missteps he’d be making as he exited, the most heavily penalized being the removal of his funds in their entirety prior to the ‘timely removal’ standards table that was illustrated in section fifty-four. If he left as he’d been hoping to, he’d be leaving with a paltry sum that equated to the kind of cash he used to procure on his knees in a bathroom stall. Bread and peanut butter money - not retirement money.

When he was marched out of Admin, Dean felt weak in the knees and not in the fun way. Back when he’d begun working at the brothel, he’d had to think about a lot of things he’d never thought about before… things like deductions for taxes, a bank account for his savings and a debit card for expenses, a safe deposit box for important papers like his contract and his various employer provided insurance policies. He’d never had any of those things while hunting with his dad. But, as new employees, Dean and the others in his orientation group had been reminded that such details required their attention.

In hindsight, it was easy to see that he’d been careless at the beginning. If he had bothered to read his contract carefully, or even been honest with Sammy so that his pre-law brother could look it over, Dean would have seen that keeping the lion's share of his money would be challenging for someone like him.

Dean had expected to lose some of his accumulated wealth to fines and penalties because that was just how things had always worked at the brothel.  After all, behavioral infractions carried a financial penalty at Hell’s Angels. Even for relatively small infractions, the resulting penalties would often result in a worker losing their bonus and/or multiplier for months at a time. But, though he’d known there would be consequences for leaving without notice, Dean hadn’t imagined they’d be quite so severe.

As he’d waited to meet with HR, he’d assumed that once he knew the actual dollar amount he’d forfeit when he quit, he could simply weigh the option of a speedy exit and decide if it was worth the cost. He’d expected a substantial financial penalty, but nothing like this.

For the rest of the day, Dean remained in a fog. He didn’t eat or sleep, he just laid on a bed in the Quiet Room, occasionally referring back to his contract to check the numbers again because the ones in his head just didn’t seem possible. The following day, he still had no appetite, though he was a bit more accepting of his circumstances. After all, how could he have expected any less? Honestly, the one lesson that life had consistently taught him since childhood was that Dean Winchester wasn’t destined to have the kind of life others had. No one really loved him, not in a way he could see or feel, and no one really cared about him enough to check on him either. In all the time he’d been hunting with his father, no concerned relative had ever sought them out to be sure that he and his brother were being properly cared for and no government agency had bothered checking to be sure he was being fed, educated, or even alive. Everything of value that he’d ever owned had either been stolen, lost, or ruined on the road and every new relationship that he’d ever begun to build had been wrenched painfully away.

The only good thing Dean had ever had in life was his brother. No wonder he’d taken such good care of him. Even if their father hadn’t constantly instructed him to watch out for Sammy, Dean would’ve done it.

That night, Dean made another trip down to his safe deposit box. The paperwork he stowed inside was a few sheets thicker now because it included a copy of the formal letter of resignation he’d submitted that afternoon. It seemed unlikely that he’d actually be able to remain at Hell’s Angels until the date he’d quoted, but he was determined to give it a try. Otherwise he had nothing to show for all the time he’d spent here… nothing he couldn’t have earned flipping burgers in a fast food joint, anyway.

He then stood at the desk resolutely checking back in. He received his usual blood and urine tests as well as his injection in preparation for the next day. But, for the first time that he could remember, Dean wasn’t enjoying the lust that coursed through his veins, the towering erection between his legs, or even the company of other naked men as they figited around him in the dark.

In the morning, he drank his juice obediently and kept still as he was painfully waxed and plucked in preparation for the Auction. When he entered the room and heard applause swell from the crowd, Dean didn’t feel his pulse quicken and he didn’t preen for the crowd. He just scanned the audience as the bidding began and chanted a feverish prayer that Novak not be present.

The winning bidder wound up being an older woman, plump around the middle and and wearing too many rings on her short, stubby fingers. He tried to keep his mind on pleasing her but his heart wasn’t in it. The same held true in the Rec Room. The voracious sexual appetite he’d had in the past seemed to be completely gone. Sure, his dick ached and his asshole clenched hungrily, but the desires of his genitals no longer seemed powerful enough to override the emotional hangover that he was dealing with.

As the hours of the day ticked away, Dean remained on auto pilot. He paid no attention to the sex that was going on around him, or the acts he himself engaged in. He still sucked on the tits and dicks and balls that were shoved in his face, and he still bent over to be used when prompted. But all the while, his mind was off pondering other subjects.

He considered the hunting life and all it had taught him. Dean’s life prior to working at Hell’s Angels was a hard one filled with complicated choices and difficult, dangerous work. He’d risen to challenges and put his life on the line like a lauded hero only to live the life of a despised degenerate. He’d saved people time and time again, delivered justice and vengeance to those who inflicted pain and suffering on the world. But he’d had no physical comforts or emotional rewards for all he’d sacrificed. Instead, he’d lived a life of cheap motels and shitty food. In the end, it would seem, the lesson he’d learned from hunting was that no matter how much he did, it would never be enough.

Dean also pondered his family, or lack thereof, and he lingered over the lessons he’d learned as a Winchester. All told, the big life-lesson he’d learned from his father was similar - no matter how hard he tried to make himself into what John Winchester wanted him to be - it would never be enough.

Having cycled through the rejuvenation process a few times, Dean was feeling tired. He’d never really had that feeling in the Rec Room before, but here it was. He was currently sandwiched between two men, one barreling into him from behind and the other bending over in front of him. On some level, he knew his dick was content because the constant throb of want had momentarily abated. Similarly, he was vaguely aware that the relentless yearning of his twitching rim was being appeased thanks to the hard cock stretching it wide open. Regardless, Dean felt disconnected from it all; it was almost as if he was watching it all happen to someone else, someone he didn’t care about at all.

He barely noticed when the man behind him pulled out and came on his ass, only paying enough attention to look around and see if anyone else was waiting nearby for a turn. That’s when he was jerked out of his comfortable numbness.

Striding towards him from across the room was a formidable figure with dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a determined scowl. This was the first time Dean had ever really seen the man in motion. Until now, Novak had only paced back and forth a few steps within the confines of a small room. But out in the open like this, his posture was far different. The man's gait was nearly a strut as he snaked fluidly around both furniture and human obstacles alike. A familiar trench coat was billowing out around him as he advanced and for a moment, he was mesmerizing to watch. Dean stayed still, riveted to the spot as the agent closed the distance between them.

Seeing Castiel Novak approach him, especially here amid the unbridled sexual activity of the Rec Room, was doing something to Dean. He was like a snake to the charmer - a bull to the matador. As Novak drew closer, Dean could only watch helplessly. He was simultaneously terrified and eager and he made no move to evade the man as his worthy adversary stopped short, nose to nose with him. It was obvious that he was trying to ignore the man whom Dean was still mindlessly fucking.  

Maybe it was because seeing Novak in this setting was so unexpected, or perhaps it was the events of the last few days having shifted his focus, but either way, Dean knew he wasn’t reacting like he normally would’ve. Lacking both the will and the ability to flee, he simply stared at Novak while waiting for the man to speak. All the while he continued thrusting but paid no attention to the sex, his body the rough equivalent of a mere wind-up toy.

Those fierce blue eyes stayed locked on his, and Novaks determined gaze conveyed a sense of urgency that didn't need to be spoken aloud. When the agent took a deep breath, Dean did too. It was an involuntary reaction. He glanced down to the man’s lips as they began to form words, absolutely fascinated by their shape. From the deepest corner of his mind, Dean’s subconscious was screaming at him to snap out of it… to be alert and focus before he wound up making a crucial mistake. It didn't matter. He was powerless against the mans strange magnetism and it kept him fully fixated on the agent as he spoke. His voice was commanding and Dean’s body responded to it, a tingling sensation returning to his forgotten groin while saliva flooded his mouth. In hindsight, the agent's words seemed predictable.

“Hello, Dean.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
